The Deformed Knight
by Gibson18
Summary: Unspoken words; Much is always left unsaid, but the truth behind the words is always there to be seen for those who know where to look.
1. Introduction

_**The Deformed Knight**_

_A small collection of stories containing the adventures of Glenn before his most epic journey._

There are heroes in every era and this one was no exception. Just like any other time where heroes rose to legendary status, it was a tumultuous time. War was running rampant in the land and many good men were trodden underfoot. A dark force was moving throughout all the known countries, tearing kingdoms and whole cities apart as if they were paper. However, there were many who believed that a certain knight would one day wage battle against this dark force and bring peace to the land. His sword which was rumored to have been made by God himself would tear asunder the many demons that plagued the lives of the oppressed. Unfortunately, we will not reach this point with this small collection of tales.

We will focus on the man before he became a legend.

Why would anyone write about the deeds of a certain man? Why would anyone call what he did heroic? What earned him the right or the privilege to be regarded as a hero? For that matter, how would anyone define a hero? Is someone regarded as a hero when they accomplish a difficult deed? I would say no, because people accomplish difficult tasks everyday. We accomplish important things, but that does not make us heroic.

Here is what I believe to be heroic: accomplishing a feat against opposition.

What is the difference between a rich mother raising children than a poor woman raising her children? Of course there is much more opposition, and when a poor mother accomplishes her goal it is far more of a heroic effort than the woman that had everything she needed. The same applies for a keeper of the peace. If there was a man who arrested a complying robber, would that be more heroic than arresting a cold-blooded murderer after a dangerous duel? Of course not, because heroism is all about overcoming the opposition; even rising to the challenge is enough to regard it as heroic.

Now that we have addressed a seemingly pointless topic, we will move on to the story…


	2. His Humble Beginnings

_**The Deformed Knight**_

_A small collection of stories containing the adventures of Glenn before his most epic journey._

_Chapter One: His Humble Beginnings_

This story takes place in a city named Porre which was full of dusty roads, excluding the innermost area of the city which was furnished with brick alleys. The houses were made of wood and stone which did little to keep its inhabitants warm in the winter, but it made living in autumn perfect. The air was still warm but the land would be graced with cooling winds that scattered brightly colored leaves through the streets. It was around this time of the year when apples would be ripe and plentiful, therefore making the whole city smell of apple cider, and apple pies.

I must also note with sadness that this city had its share of poverty as well and it existed in several sections that were never travailed by the wealthy.

In those days it was customary to name streets after the manner of people or businesses that resided there. If you were to wonder on a street lined with restaurants and the strong scent of bread, you were most assuredly on Baker Street. If you found yourself on a street lined with jewelers and merchants that dealt with expensive gems you would be on Gemstone Street. If you could smell burning metals and hear the noisy clinking of hammers then you were most likely on Blacksmith Street.

Knowing about the way they named their streets, just imagine what manner of people lived in a place known as Beggar Lane. Do not feel guilty if you laughed just a little at the name, because you would not be the first. Even the people who lived on this road would occasionally have the good heart to make light of their situation. However, if you were sympathetic in nature you would find yourself feeling guilty at the mere thought of laughing despite my assurances. This road was unpaved and was full of ruts from passing wagons. This was no problem when the weather was dry, but when it rained the road would become a muddy mess that would suck the shoes right off your feet or cause you to slip and fall into the filth. The people who lived here were ignorant and generally stupid, having no means to procure a decent education. There were only two jobs available to the inhabitants of this street: thievery or begging. The children, who still had smiling faces notwithstanding their poverty, were dirty and filthy with holes in their clothing if they had any at all. The men were drunken oafs who would pass time by telling filthy jokes or harassing anyone that seemed to be financially well.

Perhaps it would please you to hear that even among this entire squabble there was a good family that tried their best to rise above their situation. Even in the face of their peers they stood resilient in their convictions. They would not beg nor steal, but try to find any work to support themselves. They were not allowed in the churches because of their appearance, but they would listen to the many proselytes that would preach in the streets. They believed in being honest and virtuous despite the obscenities that surrounded them, and for this reason I would call them heroic. You may also be pleased to know that the child in this family is the protagonist of this story.

His name is Glenn of Porre. At this moment he is only a youth regarded as filth, but in time he shall be regarded as a legendary swordsman and hero…

* * *

This day was just like any other autumn; school had resumed a few months ago and it would announce its commencement with a loud bell every morning. The children who were wealthy would need something so loud to pry them from their comfortable beds, or at least that was what any child on Beggar Street believed. Perhaps that was somewhat true, because the children in Beggar Street were always up before the sunrise, anxious to get their stiff bodies moving and warm their blood that became chill during the night while the richer children seemed so sluggish. Suffice it to say, living in Beggar Street meant uncomfortable beds, if they had any at all. In fact, Glenn would usually sleep on a messy mound of matted hay. He never complained and thought nothing of it. He had heard that beds were far more comfortable than anything he had ever experienced, but it was something that he did not miss, having never slept in one.

Glenn longed to go to school, but his family could never afford something so expensive. They lived in a country that did not have the benefits of free education like their neighboring kingdom, Guardia. Even if he did live in such a wonderful place, he would still have to choose between filling his stomach with food or his head with knowledge. His father, a kind yet ignorant man, would always say, "You can't live on a steady diet of schooling."

"Fresh bread for sale!" a vendor cried out.

Those words seemed to cause his stomach to roar in agreement with the imaginary voice of his father. Even worse, the smell of fresh cinnamon rolls filled his nostrils insomuch that he could taste the sweet powder and feel the butter melt at the roof of his mouth. Just as when a dream leaves your mind, so did the taste of the cinnamon rolls leave his imagination, making him long to partake of that tremendous flavor.

Have you ever noticed how painfully shy polite children are? It is funny to see a child timidly approach someone whom they wished to speak to, taking sideway glances and edging gingerly until they were just an arm's length away. By that time, the person, or in this case the baker had been watching the child out of the corners of their eyes. They would smile to themselves while the child clumsily formed words inside his or her head. When that happens, it is usually the adult who makes the first impression by simply saying, "May I be of service to thee?"

Glenn was taken aback and blushed horribly, but was forward nonetheless, "Please, kind sir, may I ask of thee a way to earn thy means of provisions?"

Evidently the baker did not expect this. In his mind's eye he imagined that the little boy was lost and needed direction. The baker tried his best to hide it, but a frown graced his face. He did not enjoy dealing with beggars, but at the same time he was rather pleased to hear that he was willing to work for it. As a matter of fact he was in a most unpleasant situation at the moment. His frown, much to the delight of Glenn, turned upwards into a large smile, "Would thou be willing to leave something of value as collateral, so that I may take thy word?"

"Ask what you will of me, and it shall be." Glenn said with a slight nod.

"Pardon the profound rudeness of mine request, but understand that I have yet to see an honorable beggar." The baker chuckled.

"I understand thy thoughts and I agree with thee in full." Glenn said while he searched his person for something of value. At last he pulled out a small trinket his mother made for his birthday just last year. It was probably not nearly enough to cover any collateral, no matter how cheap the bread was, but it held sentimental value for Glenn. Even the baker was able to notice how much difficulty went into putting up his trinket, and when he saw it he realized that it was most likely a present from someone the boy held in high esteem, because it simply could not be good for anything else. It was a simple wristband made from dried river reeds. It was sturdy and looked attractive, but given a little time and patience anyone could make one. "Please, wilt thou believe on my words when I say that this bracelet holds much worth unto me?"

"As the lord thy god liveth, I shall. The deal is made then." The baker said, extending a hearty handshake.

"Then what shall my penance be?" Glenn asked.

"Look yonder and see the large bell that tolls in the distance, lad?"

Glenn nodded.

"'Tis a lord there that wishes for the finest bread in all of Porre. Then further on there shall be an old man attending to his daily chores in a garden."

"I hear and understand. Shall I go my way?"

"Ye shall; and should you return with the payment ye shall receive your trinket again. I will feed thee and perhaps reimburse thee if thou art prudent yet hasty."

"Aye!" Glenn said with a bright smile.

"Take these provisions and go anon."

* * *

Perhaps you may think it's horribly sad that a child at this age was expected to work for his breakfast, but you would be surprised how many children are expected to do the same in this very world we live in now, let alone the world in which our story takes place. You would imagine that he would be very dreary indeed, but that was far from the truth! Already his mind was filling up with the thought of rolls, pastries, pies, and the possibility of a monetary reward. It is a very useful thing to be preoccupied while running, because if he were to awake from his dream he would realize how parched his throat was.

Everything around him was booming activity. It happened to be a Sunday afternoon and he was only a short distance from the church. The church was by far the biggest building in all of Porre, save for the castle which lay in the midst of it all. The white bricks seemed as large as his body and the stained glass windows were so vibrant with color that he swore the windows glowed in the morning light. At the very top was a bell that had rung every Sunday afternoon for as long as he could remember. He had heard stories about gargoyles that would make their homes up in the bell towers, but he had enough sense to discard these as fairy tales. He was never fortunate enough to set foot inside its hollowed walls, but he wished very much to go inside.

The majestic structure caused him to stop in place and gape with awe at the heavenly spires that were erected at key points in the building. He would listen to the preachers as they circled about the market place, sharing their wisdom and knowledge of god. He would listen in silent reverence as he listened to their powerful testimonies and intellect. It was a dream that he had; to become a priest. This was a secret that had been with him for ages, because he knew the children that lived on Beggar Street would never let him live it down. The people that lived on his street were so down trodden that the thought of a merciful god was spurious to them. However, he could not help but reaffirm to himself that he had always felt something special guide him.

In fact, a strange voice filled his soul at that moment saying, _"Be on thy way. Be true to thy convictions."_

For the second time that day Glenn was taken by surprise. He looked around but saw that no one had been paying any mind to him, let alone speaking to him. He looked down at his hands and saw the basket full of sweet smelling bread. He began to move towards the church, but knew that he could not go inside, so instead he noticed a quaint house right next to it. "Perhaps this may be the man that was spoken of."

The house itself was embraced by the shadow of the monolithic church, but there were still flowers and climbing vines that still seemed to get enough sunlight. Glenn, being barefoot, felt the cool, dewy grass between his toes as he walked up the pathway and knocked on the door. The environment grew steadily quieter when he approached the house and he just realized that al he could hear was the gentle rustling of grass and leaves. Beyond the door he could hear the steady thumping of a rocking chair and the pages of a book being closed. Then he could hear the steady thudding of footsteps before the squeaking of oil less door hinges. The next thing he knew he was looking into the face of an old priest.

The priest was a stern looking man who wore glasses, but for a brief moment he removed them, polished the spectacles with the hem of his robe, and put them into his pocket. It was strange; because once those glasses were gone he seemed to be one of the jolliest men he had ever seen before. He was wrinkly with age and his hair was gray, but still thick and full. He did not walk with a hump in his back like most of the elderly do, but stood very erect and seemed very prideful. His voice was also strong and was not in the least bit raspy, "What may I do for thee, my son?"

"My lord, I bring thee sustenance from the bakery." Glenn said politely.

The priest chuckled, "Thou art gracious beyond thy years. Have ye good parents."

"I daresay that I do, if you please." Glenn said with a quick nod.

"Well, it makes the heart leap with joy to see a youth engaged in honest trade." The priest said.

"I do believe that the lord hath said, 'if thou shalt work all the days of your life in honesty it shall be well with thee.'"

"I see that thy wisdom is beyond thy years as well. Thou quoteth the prophets. Art thou literate?"

"I confess that I am not." Glenn said with a mournful, embarrassed tone.

"Yet, thou knowest the words of thy prophets?" the priest said in a suspicious tone.

"I endeavor to listen to their holy words from the mouth of another." Said Glenn, becoming quite aware of how much the time was dwindling.

"Aye, thou dost mean well. I commend thee for such thinking. Please, wilt thou spare a moment?"

"Only a moment, if you please." Glenn said, darting his eyes towards a garden that was a distance off.

The priest went inside his home, leaving the door open to show Glenn just what poverty had caused him to miss. There were fine woven rugs on the floor along with gorgeous paintings depicting creation and the good works of old prophets. Glenn had hardly ever seen a bed, and this perhaps was the only thing that could live up to his expectations. It almost seemed as if it were a cloud, being covered in fluffy white blankets stuffed with feathers. Trying his best not to stare, he looked towards the priest that was writing a note with quill and parchment. He then saw a jar which the priest dipped his hand into, producing a strange clinking sound. He pulled his hand back out in the shape of a fist and approached Glenn.

"I thank thee again," the priest said, handing him a short letter, "wilt thou accept my request accordingly?"

"If only thou will not request immediate delivery if it so please you."

The priest laughed heartily, "Of course not. When thou art done with thy rounds, please give this letter unto the baker."

"I shall do accordingly so."

The priest extended his fist so that it was over Glenn's free hand. To his surprise his hand opened and more money than he had ever seen fell into his palm. Glenn was astonished as he looked at his hand and back at the smiling priest. "Mi'lord, am I worthy of such pay?"

"I say thou art worthy of more, but prove thyself first by delivering the letter. God be with you." With that he closed the heavy oak door.

The garden was always quite a sight to see. Even in the midst of autumn it was overflowing with chirping birds and buzzing bees. The air smelled sweet and fragrant and it almost felt like a dream. The bright colors of the pistons and petals contrasted greatly to the drab clothes that covered Glenn's back. He almost felt as if this was a place on which he was not meant to tread. Even so, he walked towards an elderly man who was attending to a well.

"Art thou the dresser of this garden?" Glenn inquired gently as if not to disturb him.

"It is I." the gardener replied.

"A baker asked that I deliver these good unto thee."

The gardener, a withered old man, showed his crooked teeth in a beaming smile, "Ah, 'tis fresh and warm! Oh, my belly aches as do my limbs."

"Oh poor soul," Glenn answered as the old man sat on the grass gently, "is the pain much?"

"It is the torment of age. 'Tis a malady that will plague the strongest youth."

Glenn remembered every thing he had heard from the preachers in the streets. Although his guise would fool a simple mind, those who knew him best knew that he was quick of intellect. He looked towards the direction of the bakery and then at the old man. Just as he was ready to return to the bakery there was an echoing voice inside his mind that said, _"To be in the service of your fellow men is to be in the service of your god."_

"Good sir, which chores need attention?"

"What a strange question thou asketh of me! I must inquire as to thy reasons."

"I only wish to provide thee with service."

"Alas, I have no money!" the man said as if he were crestfallen.

"'Virtue is a reward unto itself', good sir."

"Thou art of great character!" the man said with gleaming eyes.

And so he helped the old man in the garden, which took far more time than he imagined. By the time the chores were accomplished it was quite close to the afternoon and his poor stomach was clenching itself as tightly as a python grips its prey. He turned towards the elderly man and said, "Good sir, I must make haste and be on my way. Canst thou manage?"

"It is well. Be on thy way, valiant soul! I shall tell my employer of your goodness!"

"Good day."

* * *

And so the poor boy was sprinting as fast as his weak legs could carry him. It was quite a distance back to the bakery, but when he returned it seemed as if the baker were in quite a foul mood. When Glenn approached the baker it was more than an assumption; it was a certainty. The baker snatched the boy by the arm and looked at him with the most reproving stare. "I hath found thee out, rascal! Thou art a villain! Hast thou consumed the provisions?"

"I do protest, good sir! I have been true to my word!" Glenn said, raising a hand to defend himself.

"Prove thy innocence, wretch!"

"Behold! The payment for the provisions!"

They were next to the counter which was typically used for pounding and rolling dough. Amid the murmurings of a small bewildered crowd there was the clinking of several coins. The baker, whose face was red with enmity, quickly changed to that of pleasant surprise. His nimble fingers felt the coins as each one was counted, "This must be an error! 'Tis far more than the necessary amount!"

"The priest also requested that I deliver this letter unto thee." Glenn said, holding aloft a crumpled piece of parchment.

The baker read the parchment and his eyes went wide with astonishment, "Thou hast done very well by him. He favors you, m'lad."

"I am ignorant to such a reason for his trust."

"Well, you would be pleased to know that his wish is to divide the surplus between us."

Glenn's eyes shone like diamonds, "Speakest thou truthfully?"

"Aye!" laughed the baker. The baker laughed merrily as he swiftly divided all the coins and gave Glenn an amount that was still far more than he had ever had in his possession. The baker leaned across the counter and produced something from his pocket, "I do believe that thou hath missed this piece of armament." With lackadaisicalness he tossed the reed bracelet onto the counter. A great tumultuous joy filled Glenn's chest as he saw him disappear under the counter only to rise again with half a baker's dozen of cinnamon rolls. "Take them all as my apology. I beg for thy forgiveness. I knew not of your honesty."

"It is I who should beg for thy forgiveness!" Glenn said abruptly.

"Thou hast done well, and it seems that the priest agrees. Tell me, I pray, wouldst thou return again on the 'morrow next?"

"If it pleases you." Said Glenn.

"It would, my lad."

And so that was the way it was. Glenn retuned the next day to see that the baker wished to employ his services once again. After those deliveries the baker called on him again and so on until he was viewed by the public as an apprentice. Time went on and a few years passed until Glenn had become eight years of age. He continued to work for the baker, delivering goods and cooking on occasions. In this way, his family never worried about supporting themselves in such a place as Beggar Street. Life was still far from what we would consider pleasant, but it was still much more of an improvement.

However, this is only the beginning of the story and there is still much to see and hear…


	3. Fighting against one's ilk

_**The Deformed Knight**_

_A small collection of stories containing the adventures of Glenn before his most epic journey._

_Chapter Two: Fighting against one's ilk._

"_For verily, verily I say unto you, he that hath the spirit of contention is not of me, but is of the devil, who is the father of contention, and he stirreth up the hearts of men to contend with anger, one with another. Behold, this is not my doctrine, to stir up the hearts of men with anger, one against another; but this is my doctrine, that such things should be done away."_

There was the priest. The priest spoke with the tone of a bard. The words which seemed so ordinary came out in such a fashion that it could have been the administration of an angel had Glenn closed his eyes. However, it was still impressive that such a rich voice came from a man riddled with many years. Even as he read those words he seemed younger, but then he slowly closed the book, being mindful of its many loose pages, and he became as an old man once again.

And then there was the boy. There was no sincerer child in the entire world as he sat in silent reverence, allowing the words to touch his soul. He was sitting on the opposite end of a small wooden table, leaning into his hands which were propped into place by elbows situated on the table. He felt warmth envelope him like a thick blanket as the priest placed the scriptures gently on the table, removing his spectacles all the while.

"Thou dost read such marvelous things." Glenn smiled as the priest looked at him with the concern of a doting father.

"Those are the words of the prophet who brought eternal salvation. If that does not sway thee, I swear as well that it is true."

"Sir, may I ask thee a question that is figurative in nature?" Glenn said softly, averting his gaze only for a moment.

This man was experienced. For years he helped people overcome their problems, not by becoming directly involved and knowing about the actions completely, but by offering help and wisdom when it was needed and when they were willing to share their grievances. There was numerous times when he would interview a soul to see if all was well; also, there were numerous times when he found that secrets were held in diverted gazes, so there was a moment where the priest held a small amount of fear as Glenn looked down to the tabletop.

Nevertheless, the priest smiled politely and said, "How may I help thee?"

"Suppose there is one who causes contention for the purpose of gain. Is it wrong to resort to violence?"

The priest looked towards the ceiling for a moment and said, "I know not."

"Is it not true that thou knoweth the truth of all things?" Glenn asked with a surprised tone.

The priest laughed, "I am only a man. There is only one who knoweth all things, but if we ask for wisdom he shall bestow it upon us in his own due time. Come tomorrow. I shall have your answer then."

"I shall take my leave." Glenn said with a bow.

* * *

Perhaps some may wonder; what was the secret that Glenn held within himself? For the answer we must go back a ways. Three months passed between the time the problem started and the moment he asked the priest for a solution. We found ourselves in the pleasantness of spring when we visited the situation which occurred between Glenn and the priest, but now we found ourselves in the bitterness of winter.

The bricks or the blades of grass that made up the street were buried underneath a thick snow that crunched underneath feet. Of course, in the richer parts of the city, the snow was cleared daily so that if it did snow it was fresh and was not filthy. However, in the place known as Beggar Lane, the snow was nearly black from the dirt that clang to bare feet or the worn shoes of its inhabitants. There was a slight effort to make it appeasing to the eye, but that merely consisted of pushing the snow to the side of the road so that there were two large mounds of filth on each side. The sky was filled with smoke that drifted from the city's many fireplaces that were stoked. Depending on the person, that was a pleasant thing because it filled the city with the smell of pinewood ashes.

Glenn did not seem to mind it as he shuffled through the snow, comfortable in his new coat and snow boots he bought just a few months ago. There was a wool scarf that hid the bottom part of his face and a cap that protected his head from the wet snow that still descended in droves. He was never fond of the snow when he was merely a beggar, but now that he viewed the world from within the confines of his thick coat and insulated attire he found it quite beautiful. Even the centermost part of town (known as Central Street, of course) was peaceful as he made his was towards Baker Street.

"Ah, 'tis my good boy!" The baker said with a gleam in his eye.

"I wish thee a good day, sir." Glenn said with a slight nod and smile.

"Aye, the same to thee as well, if it pleases thee!"

"It does, kind sir. What manner of work have we on this cold day?"

Although he was protected from the cold wind he was still affected by the snow that melted into the woolen parts of his clothing. He wished to by coats that were lined outside with leather, but his station in life was not nearly comfortable enough. Therefore, he was happy to discover that the baker had not yet begun to cook the bread and received a chance to work near the oven. He knew this from the moment he saw him and his question was nothing more than a polite way to invite himself to work with the oven. He knew this because although the day was cold the face of the baker was ruddy and dark with soot in several places.

Glenn removed his overcoat and stepped inside the humble bakery, which was a mansion compared to what Glenn was used to living in. Underneath his thick clothing were his regular clothes, so he was able to remove his wet attire and hang it next to the furnace that housed the flame. He removed his boots and took the job of manning the stove while the baker went outside to sell his wares vocally. Within an hour or so, Glenn was more than willing to sit outside and enjoy his breakfast only to return inside and continue. It is very true what they say about hard work making the reward sweeter. This baker did not agree the new inventions that generated heat but was adamant about using the older and more complicated method of cooking his wares. If you have never tasted bread that was made by stone oven and by fire you will know without another thought which is better. Things that are harder to make are almost always better in comparison when it comes to things that are consumable. Simply put, the bread was popular among the people of the city and it was the best that Glenn had ever tasted.

Glenn enjoyed his work which was well with him, because we all know that when someone is occupied the time seems to flow faster than a raging river. Before he could realize how long he spent in front of the stove there was the faint ringing of a bell. There were complicated devices that kept time known as watches, but given the fact that they were made with small gears which took great precision to make, they were a tool available only to the wealthy. The rest of the city relied on the clock tower that occupied the northern section of Porre. It would be rather silly to someone in our time to see how the society reacted as the bell began to dong. If there was a crowd a short hush would fall over them as they listened to the strikes of the bell. The rings of the bell signified the time, and just as it would be in our world there were twelve different hours that sounded out every day.

"Twelve strikes of the bell. It is time for your deliveries my friend!" The baker handed him a knapsack full with bread.

"I pray thee; who art my appointments this day?" Glenn asked.

"Aye, thou must make thy regular visits and then find a man that resideth in Central Street. He goes by the name 'Nathaniel of Porre.'"

"I shall take my leave." Glenn said with a polite bow.

Of course he dressed himself again in his woolen clothes. He was also pleased to see that the snow ceased for a moment so that he would not be soaked to the skin after his work was done. He proceed to the same people he visited regularly, and their identities might please you. Throughout these two years Glenn continued to have two regular customers who were charmed by his sincerity and kindness; they were the priest and the gardener. At first the visits were sporadic, a few days apart at the most, but these two characters began to call upon his service everyday. This was not because they had grown an insatiable craving for cinnamon rolls, but merely because their day was incrementally improved when Glenn came for a visit. Over this time they had become great friends.

Usually the priest was the first to receive his delivery and was the first to receive a visit, but this day he had to prepare an important sermon for the upcoming holidays. However, he found the gardener walking about his station, shoveling the snow from the walkways and rubbing his hands together to stay warm. His countenance was that of someone tired and annoyed by constant labor, but that changed as he saw his friend walk up the way.

"Ah! Glenn! 'Tis my young friend!"

"It is I," Glenn said with a slight laugh, "how does the cold breath of winter find thee?"

"It finds me a disagreeable man if I may speak in earnest!" The gardener huffed, showing in the air as a small cloud.

"Shall I assist thee?" Glenn offered kindly.

"I shall not bother thee with my responsibilities, at least not this day. I confess, my work is near completion. However, I thank thee for thy concern."

"I confess that I am relieved thou dost refuse my help. I would stay with thee, but I must make haste to my next patron."

The gardener stopped for a moment and rested his weight on the handle of his shovel, "'Tis a rarity. Another patron that asketh for distribution."

"Yea, knowest thou him? His title is 'Nathaniel of Porre' and he resides within Central Street."

"I know him," the gardener said with a snort, "a disagreeable man, that."

"What cause hath he to be so disagreeable?" Glenn tilted his head as he asked.

"'Tis a drunkard and a ruffian!"

It is painfully obvious that those who are poorer in station tend to abuse alcohol far more than those who tend to be prosperous. However, there are times when one tends to be wealthy and enjoys the fruits of his labors, be it possessions or the abuse of wine. It is common knowledge that wine is a dangerous thing and it entices men to forget themselves and do crude or unspeakable acts. There are those who would disagree, of course; but one must ask if they drink heavily themselves. Glenn was knowledgeable concerning drunkards and the very stench of alcohol. It is depressing to say that he grew up with the smell, sensing it on men (and occasionally children his age) that would pass by his hovel. Sometimes he would hear the sound of some poor woman's screams mingled with loud slaps and thick sounding punches. Such was the monster known as alcoholism.

Nonetheless, Glenn answered, "Even so, I must do what I must."

"So be it, but I suggest that thou hold thy tongue while dealing with that rouge! He is of ill temperament."

A good day to you, sir."

"And to you, my young friend."

* * *

Central Street was still quiet and peaceful, even though it had stopped snowing for an unknown amount of time. The name of the street was perfect for its station and its purpose. This city was a few centuries old and Central Street happened to be its first pathway although it was called something different in the older days. (What it was called no longer mattered to the people; therefore that fact disappeared almost completely). Of course, when new people came and began to build communities they built it next to this street until it grew in length and width, thus building new streets. Central Street was not only the main road that led to all roads, but it also led to the town square and eventually the castle to the north. If anyone were directing a straggler or tourist, they usually began their directions of Central Street.

Some would also assume that such an important street would only house wealthy citizens, but that was false. The homes grew wealthier as you went to the north, but when you went further south the homes would grow smaller and smaller until it was almost like Beggar Lane. Living as a poor man in Central Street was better than living as poor man in Beggar Lane because your road was paved the conveniences of markets and work were just outside your door. Therefore, we can say that anyone who lived in the southern part of Central Street was the same ilk as Glenn.

Therefore, he began his stroll towards the south and amused himself with the sounds of his boots crunching into the snow. There were a few times where he had to ask for assistance, and his heart sank increasingly when he was given the same disdainful response to his inquiry that the gardener gave him. He should have known how frightful this person must be when a simple gardener residing on the opposite side of the city knew of him. Now these people seemed to say that his acts were infamous. At this point Glenn was becoming rather concerned about how this would go.

After a few minutes of walking he reached a particularly ramshackle set of houses. Even among these poor conditions there was a kindly woman who took the time to listen to Glenn's plight and pointed him in the direction of a home that was in great disrepair. Perhaps it was even worse than his own home, but the fact that it was on such an important street made him a wealthier man in the eyes of others. There was no gate, but the door to the house led out to the street. Glenn approached the door, knocked, and could hear the sound of approaching footsteps. He could also hear a gruff voice from beyond the door

"_Who is th' bloke that disturbs me?" _

"It is I, the distributor from the bakery."

There was the sound of many locks being loosed before the door swung wide open to show Glenn a rather intimidating sight. Before him stood a mountain of a man; this man had tree trunks for legs that could stomp cracks into a brick road. He had a mean look about his eyes which were red and swollen so that it seemed as if he were drunk. His clothing was shabby and it seemed to be that of a thief. He had a little stubble on his face that seemed coarse enough to refine wood if he wished it. His arms, which were bare, were bulging and lined with thick veins. He reeked of booze.

"Thou'rt slow and dim witted. Tell me, hast thou crawled to this place?" The man spat on the street before giving Glenn an icy stare.

"I beg for thy forgiveness, I knew not your place of residence."

"I see that thou knowest very little!" He said, snatching his knapsack of provisions.

Glenn knew not how to act. Such brutality and lack of proper manners have never made itself manifest to him in such a strong way. The brute opened the knapsack, held it upside-down and began to shake it so that the bread fell into his grubby hands. As he shook the bag there was the sound of something clinking inside and for a moment the man had a disturbing gleam in his eye. He tossed the empty bag towards Glenn and ordered him to leave his sight, to which he was more than happy to oblige.

* * *

Having to deal with such a beastly man already put a great deal of sadness into his day. The fact that it began to snow again dampened his spirits as well as his clothing as he shuffled towards his home in Beggar Street. It was a lengthy walk from South Central Street, but at that moment it helped him to forget such cruel treatment at the hands of that man.

"Oy! Lad! Couldst thou help me?"

Glenn turned about to see that there was a single boy standing in the middle of the road. The boy was smiling and seemed to be good natured. His hair was neat and tidy although he wore threadbare clothing. He waved a single arm enthusiastically, beckoning young Glenn towards him. Glenn obeyed, nearing the boy. The boy extended a dirty hand, which Glenn took and clasped.

"The name is Fisk, and I seem to be in quite a predic'ment."

"What is the nature of thy trouble?" Glenn inquired.

"You see, I 'ave a friend an we been playin' a bit o' hide." While some refer to this game as "hide-and-go-seek" some simply called it "hide."

"How exciting, there is hardly any on my street that wish to play the game!" Glenn said merrily.

"So, wilt thou be assistin' me? I canst find me friends!" The boy said with a wide grin.

"I have the time!" Glenn said with a nod.

So thus began the game. The boy began to run towards a certain alleyway, saying that the last time he saw them they went down this way. Glenn was flight footed and had no difficulty bounding after him. Around twists and turns they went, going past barrel-filled alleys and off-road homes. Eventually they went to a place that Glenn did not know and it seemed that they were going quite a distance to play this game. However, he was having so much fun that he did not think to ask questions until something rather horrible happened.

They arrived at a dead end…

Glenn bent over panting as did the boy, Glenn laughing in enjoyment while the other laughed for quite a different reason. Glenn looked him with a glowing smile, but it slowly disappeared as the boy gave him a rather nasty smile in reply. Glenn felt a pang of fear build within him and said, "Where art thy friends?"

"They be behind us now!" Fisk said with a cruel cackle.

Glenn turned about and his heartbeat become rampant as he saw four shadows upon the snow, which belonged to four other children his age. They had nasty grins on their faces as well, their arms crossed as they walked closer and closer. Glenn kept his head down and began to walk back the way he came, but was bumped backwards as he walked into one of them. Glenn looked around him nervously as he said, "I thank thee for the pleasure of joining thy respites, but I must be on my way even now."

A hand alighted upon his shoulder, "Nonsense, stay a moment."

"Aye," said another, "dost thou find our company disagreeable?"

Panic had gripped him now and when that happens all logical thinking leaves the mind. Perhaps they wanted something, perhaps they did not intend to do what they had done to him, but because he pushed the hand away and tried to run his peers gave chase. Had he kept quiet perhaps his peers would not see fit to quiet him. However, that was not certain, and it is entirely possible that this was their wicked design from the beginning. I am sorry to say that Glenn never made it past the alleyway exit, but he was tackled, pulled back into the alley by his feet, his hands frantically trying to hold onto the edge of the wooden home.

He felt several hands roughly pull him onto his feet so that he was eye level with the trickster that led him here. Fisk merely looked him straight in the eye and tensed his arm. Glenn kept looking into his eyes as he felt something hard slam into his stomach, causing him to lurch forward and gasp in pain. He was frightened; for a moment he could not breathe. He had never felt the wind knocked out of him before and a fear like nothing else gripped him as he thought that the breath of life began to leave him. He gasped frantically for air, falling onto his knees and burying his fingers in the snow. While he feared the worst the children surrounding him laughed and pushed him lightly with their feet.

That was not the only punch that Glenn received during that encounter. It is surprising how cruel some children could be, which is a lesson that Glenn began to learn in the harshest way possible. Before the assault was done he could feel his cheek swell and his nose drip with blood. It hurt to breathe and it hurt to move certain parts of his body. Although these children inflicted such pain upon his frame they saw fit to add another cruel action to their hellish onslaught.

"Aye, what be this?" Fisk said, holding aloft a knapsack.

"Open the thing!" another voice said with a smile

Any bags that were made in those days were usually plain and had only one pouch for holding items. However, the baker felt it necessary to add another pouch on the side, which was what the children inspected, finding that the main pouch was empty. There, inside the smaller pouch, they found several glinting coins that clinked noisily as they fell from the pouch. The children guffawed in amazement, "Astonishin' is what this is! A prince dressed as a pauper! Surely thou must be a prince, having such wealth!"

"Perhaps this gracious prince wouldst support his loyal subjects?" Fisk said, laughing and tossing the handful of coins to himself.

Glenn was laying face down in the snow, every once in a while a drop of blood staining the perfect white. He stretched out a hand as he said rather pathetically, "Please, I beg of ye! 'Tis my support! My earnings!"

His plea fell on deaf eyes, "Take of they providence? Why, your majesty, your subjects thank thee!" A chorus of ruckus laughter erupted from the impish children.

They began to go their way, giving the poor boy a rough nudge with their foot before leaving him to quake in the snow with pain and cold. When he saw that he was alone, he rose to his knees, bent over and let loose a tirade of tears and sobs. I wish I could say that this was the only time that these children harassed him, but this was the beginning of a dark time for Glenn.

But at the same time there is an immanent defining point. In the following chapter you shall see the deepness of his heart and the signs of his impending strength. However, for now, we must leave this sad scene and reflect on what we have seen. Take comfort in knowing that all things shall be answered soon.

_Author's Note: I wanted to do the whole thing at first, but I think that would be too long of a read. I know, I know, there have been longer things that have been written, but I also like to think that a cliffhanger can be a good thing as well, eh? Thanks for reading!_


	4. The effect of sin, and a master's offer

_**The Deformed Knight**_

_A small collection of stories containing the adventures of Glenn before his most epic journey._

_Chapter Three: The effect of a sin and the offer of a master…_

"So, art thou bearing false witness to thy subordinates once again?" A punch landed into the pit of an already bruised stomach.

"Art thou too noble to share thy wealth with us?" A demeaning slap stung an already battered right cheek.

"We will ease the burden from your back, my lord." Something caused his lower back to ignite in a warming sensation accompanied with the pain of scratches that had been there before.

The small boy fell to the street at last, his energy spent entirely. He rolled slowly on the ground, unable to keep those grubby paws away from his pockets and knapsack. He felt the same feet that pushed him around for the past few weeks nudge him again while he coughed and sputtered, a mixture of blood and spittle falling from his lips. The cruel demons who were disguised as children laughed without mercy as the pauper struggled to his knees.

"Did I say that you may rise?"

A lean boy raised his knee so that his foot was placed upon the quivering shoulder of the victim. He smiled in a sickeningly sweet way as he suddenly pushed his weight forward, kicking his leg so that the poor boy flew backwards, hitting his head against the wet street. The boy instantly curled into a little ball, grasping the back of his head in pain as several tears leaked out from his tightly closed eyelids. He could feel something slightly thicker than water trickle down his neck.

"I speak the truth! I have not received any money this day." The boy whimpered as he writhed on the ground.

"Then thou shall gather thy earnings and return here within in an hour, and it shall be well with thee. However, if thou mocketh us…" To bring the point across, the monster gave him another nudge with his foot before walking away with his companions.

* * *

And now we go back to that night when our poor angel was the victim of this circumstance the first time. Since that time he was visited often by these ruffians. Glenn would generally try to stay where people walked to and fro, insuring his safety unless they were able to use some clever divergence to draw him away from the crowd. Sometimes he would try to avoid them completely, taking the back alleys only to come face to face with them on occasions. Sometimes he would run and escape, sometimes he would take his beating and yield his profits to appease their unjustified assault, and sometimes he would try his best to reason with them, but unfortunately you cannot reason with everyone. Especially with such beastly children as these. 

However, no matter how often the beatings were given to him, it would never compare to the pain he felt in his heart when he came home that night. It was a horrible ordeal on its own, all his hard work being taken from him, and now he would face his parents in disgrace. Although he was a peaceable child, being beaten and tossed to the side was still upsetting and he was very unwilling to discuss such a matter with his parents.

That day, when he faced his first assault on every principle he believed in, he trudged home, hobbling on his sprained ankle that bent from his earlier falls. His appearance was so unusual that even a few eyes gave him a glance as he made his way up Beggar Street towards his home. He was thankful that the sun began to set, hiding his features behind shadows that crept their way up the sides of houses. He reached his door and pushed against it slowly, trying to make his presence as unnoticeable as possible.

I can tell you that I have seen poverty, and it is something very hard to describe in words. Poverty is more than a station in life; it is a feeling or an experience that almost seems to make all of existence seem hideous. The eye, which is normally lazy when it views beauty in its entirety, suddenly becomes active as it views each and every atrocity in its view. This would not be such a problem if this was the normal condition of all those around them, but in this city there was a wide gap of rich and poor so that every man knew the difference. Therefore, returning home to a dingy, one room apartment was often a depressing feat.

The floorboards of his humble abode were dirty and filled with pebbles and straws of hay between the slats. There was no bed in that place and a small chimney for cooking was lit in the opposing side of the room. His bed, which was a matted pile of straw, lay to the right of the entrance. There was no window; glass was expensive and it let the cold inside. Instead, there was rock that was removable from the wall so that light could enter the house when there was no fire or whenever they needed it. The smell of smoke and ash filled the room along with the smell of vegetables. All aspects of their life were not as pitiful as it seemed; they had more money for better meals and they had blankets to keep them warm, but they still lived frugal lives.

"Aye, my little love! Thou art with us!" A cheery, kind voice that seemed to sing greeted Glenn lovingly.

Within the darkness of the house, he wiped blood of his mouth as he tried his best to steady his voice, "Aye, 'tis I."

"My working son hath need of nourishment! Come; dine with us by the fire!" The father added just as merrily.

"I thank thee both, but I must protest, I am overcome by the work of the day. I need only dreamy respite." Glenn began to make his way towards the haystack.

"Ha," the father chuckled, "thou dost need vigor, and thy mother hath blended such a remedy using only butter and salt!"

"Surely you jest!" The mother rubbed her husband's back affectionately, "'Tis merely a simple broth."

"'Tis fit for a king!" The father said straightening his back and sticking out his chest so that he appeared regal.

"'Tis fit for a jester!" The mother laughed as she gave him a small peck on his cheek.

"Son, wilt thou abide with us?" his father said, looking towards him now. There was a slight tone of worry within his voice now. Had he seen his face?

"I protest father, if it pleases thee. I must be off to my labors at an early hour."

"What is that?" His father rose from his seat and came closer to Glenn.

Glenn turned away from his father's gaze, but found himself being turned about gently. He felt his father's course hands examine his face as he felt himself being pulled closer to the fire. As the light hit him he heard the sounds that he dreaded most at that time. There was the sound of a stifled sob and the sound of low, throaty growl.

"Who hath done this to thee?" His father demanded more than asked.

Glenn stood there for only a moment, reflecting on all the teachings he heard. He knew the words of prophets and he knew in his heart which was the right thing to say, however, something prevented him from doing what he knew was right. He did something that he did not know was so easy to do: he lied. As his father looked upon his face Glenn smiled slyly as if he seemed guilty of a certain act. "Thou shall laugh at my foolishness, father! Thus, my reluctance to confess the origins of my injuries is hesitantly broken. I visited Central Street this morning and I obstructed the path of a wagon. The driver was fast and I felt myself trampled underfoot, and thus I am cursed for my carelessness."

The father looked at Glenn appraisingly and said, "Tellest thou the truth? I know that thou hast been honest all of thy days and I doubt thou would be willing to stop such an honorable achievement at this point. Just remember, my son, I shall support thee whatever the answer may be."

There was the feeling of bile rising within his stomach as he looked into his father's imploring eyes. A parent is blessed with many gifts, and a gift of discernment towards their children happens to be one of them. Glenn realized that his father knew the truth, yet this sin was much like an avalanche; once it began to fall it could not be ceased or diverted. He knew that his father doubted. He knew that he could see right through an untrained liar. He knew, but he continued his charade nonetheless. "'Twas an accident, father." was his hollow reply.

The father bit his lip and nodded in reply as if he were greatly disappointed, yet he said nothing but only gave Glenn a pat on the shoulder, "Then dine with us."

* * *

Have you ever had one of those nights were you could not sleep? There are different types of sleepless nights: there is the more pleasant one where you excited for something that would occur tomorrow, there were the nights when you were sick and although you wished it more than anything else your maladies would give you no quarter, there were also nights when you lay awake with your troubles. Glenn had no pleasantness in his insomnia. His reasons were a large mix of different feelings. There was an unpleasant burning within his stomach that almost seemed as if he were sick; he felt worried and he feared what would happen the next day; he also reflected on a certain expression that he never saw his father use in his life. 

He felt so wrong for having refused his father's help and lying to him all in the same day. He almost felt as if his innocence left him merely for a simple lie. This is why I say that children come into the world as pure things, because such a simple lie (which seems to be a necessity for our times and ages) was enough to keep him awake and effect his stomach insomuch that he would toss and turn in discomfort. Perhaps it was wrong of his father to act in such a way, and perhaps it was for the best that Glenn did not say anything, but at that moment he wished he had told him his troubles.

As he cried himself to sleep, he prayed to god that he would deliver him from his troubles. He begged that somehow his opponents would soften their hearts so they would no longer be so merciless for the solely for the sake that he would no longer feel this pain that tore his heart asunder.

Guilt is a powerful thing.

* * *

"What hath happened to thee, my young friend?" 

The snow had returned and it covered the rooftops in pristine white. Gray clouds helped derive any color from the world and only the clothing from people who walked about the city served as a stark contrast of the dull colors about them. Even the rose bushes that burst with color in the springtime were covered and only a few barren twigs could be seen. However, the walkway in the garden was clear of snow and you could see the colored stones that consisted of it.

"I see that you have finished thy labors." Glenn said absentmindedly.

"I have," the gardener said with a nod of his head, "'twas before daybreak that I had finished it."

"Well, thy efforts are comely." Glenn said, making sure that his face could not be seen.

"What hath happened to thee? Thou art injured."

"It is nothing." Glenn said firmly, wishing that he did not have to lie again, "It was my fault. I obstructed a wagon and was trodden underfoot."

"I see." The gardener said softly.

"I have brought your provisions." Glenn acted curtly only because he wanted to leave quickly. However, he could feel that sickening feeling again.

"Very well," the gardener spoke with a stiff tone, "I suppose you must go about you business."

* * *

Could he really lie to a servant of god? 

Glenn had made his way towards the cathedral, already seeing a plume of smoke rise from the small house that sat beside it. Lying to his parents was a grievous deed for him and it pained him to the point where he lacked for sleep. Lying to the baker earlier was difficult as well and left an awkward feeling between the two. It would strike someone who was _never a child _why someone would dread lying to a minister more than to their own parents. We tend to forget that children, when they see a man who is revered as a man of god, seem to have more reverence in their presence. A noisy child, who would run circles around his own parents, could become painfully silent around a man of sound religious affirmation. How incredible it is that guilt can intensify when an unclean person is brought before a pure hearted man! It is not incredible at all, but rather a fact or truth that can never be changed.

Therefore, poor Glenn walked towards the heavy wooden door with all the fear and trembling of a sinner walking into judgment. His basket of provisions rested on his wrist while he wringed his hands together, the hands beginning to shake nervously. A single fist pounded against the door while his face looked straight down at the steps. He could already hear the footsteps approach the door, and then he could hear the door swung open on its squeaky hinges.

"I grant thee a blessed morning, good friend!"

It was at that point where he remembered an old tale that did not seem to offer an insight to his problems at first. However, as it flashed through his mind it suddenly dawned on him that he could apply this to himself. There was once a man who was a slave, but became an overseer in his master's house due to his gift of prophesy, however, one day, the man who owned him left him alone to attend to his duties. His owner had an adulterous wife and she made advances on him, ordering him to do the unthinkable. It was then that Glenn received his valuable insight. The man did not stand in temptation; he ran.

It was bewildering to the priest as he stood in the icy breath of a winter's morning, holding aloft a basket of baked goods, watching his friend run away without as much as a 'if it please thee.' He only scratched his head and pocketed the money that he planned on giving him. He sighed, turned about, and closed the door behind him.

And so it went on. Instead of lying to those he held dear, the confused child simply ran…

* * *

The weeks passed until two months passed by in the same fashion. Life was no longer as prosperous as it was before, but still his family managed. The poor child had become more reclusive as a result and his only words were questions and quick responses. His parents had become increasingly worried but tried to respect his integrity when he merely told them that it was no big matter. The priest had become slightly worried as well and the gardener simply began to be irritated. However, this is where the story takes a positive turn. 

It was another day and the frost had begun to show signs of disappearance. Although it still snowed occasionally, there was no more need for heavy clothing and the sun made itself more manifest than not. Blades of green grass would occasionally peep from underneath a dirty blanket of snow before it would be covered by another bundle that fell from the rooftops.

Glenn walked down Central Street as he made his way towards the gardener. He passed through the gate and saw the gardener who greeted him with a short grunt which had become his ordinary fashion. However, something was different this day. The gardener, since Glenn had become so quick to excuse himself, would hardly even pay him attention as he worked through his duties. However, this day, he viewed Glenn while he was not watching. He watched as Glenn put a full basket on a random bench. There were scratches on his arms and bruises on his face. The gardener watched as he limped away and that seemed to set something in motion.

"Glenn!" The gardener shouted so suddenly that Glenn seemed to jump out of his skin. In fact, he was so surprised that he forgot to run.

"I pray thee, stay a while. Abide with me, for I shall need an audience. Wilt thou help me?"

Something seemed to take over for a while, and Glenn found himself acting without thinking, or on some divine impulse, "Aye, I shall."

* * *

The minutes passed and Glenn merely reflected on why he agreed to such a thing. He dreaded the thought of having the gardener probe him with questions. This time he would not be able to excuse himself without greatly offending the gardener. Would he have to confess all the wrongs he had done? It was a very unsettling thought and it made him want to run. However, he found that his legs would not let him leave and he found that he was somehow extremely curious about what the gardener had planned. It wasn't until an hour later that the very thing he planned came into being… 

While he contented himself to rest on the bench in the garden (which he was very pleased to do, seeing that he had made many deliveries that day) he listened to the birds singing while he could hear the steady sound of snipping metal from the gardener as he trimmed some unruly bushes. Glenn immersed himself into a world of sound and allowed himself to fly from his worries if only for a moment. He could hear the steady murmur of people from the square, the faint wind rustling through trees that waved back and forth, and finally, the strange sound of wood tapping against stone.

His eyes had closed themselves so that he could take in the sounds of the world, but they were pulled open by this strange sound that seemed so close to him. He looked over and beheld an older man, a man that was perhaps the same age as the gardener. He had a cane with him that continually prodded the earth beneath him. He was a more handsome man than the gardener. His eyes were light and he had a long flowing beard that came to the middle of his chest. He also wore clothes that seemed more like priestly robes, only they were velvet and colorful. He looked at the gardener who had risen from his work, casting aside his tools. The gardener returned his gaze with twinkling eyes.

"It has been nearly a year, my friend." The gardener said as the strange visitor drew closer.

They embraced each other like brothers while the visitor said, "Aye, 'tis good for my soul to see thy face, Avary."

"Avary?" Glenn whispered to himself. Was that the gardener's name? Why did it sound so familiar?

"Glenn!" The youth was pulled from his thoughts as the dresser of the garden beckoned him closer. "Tristen, this is my good friend. He has been kind enough to offer help in my garden."

"_My garden? What does he mean when he doth say 'my garden?'?"_ Glenn thought to himself.

"Aye," the visitor said with a happy burst of laughter, "A kind soul that doth care for the overly elderly!"

"Thou art my senior, or hath the knowledge of such an important fact taken leave of thy conscious?" The gardener guffawed in reply as did the visitor.

The group of three started moving slowly towards a quaint home that was in the middle of the garden. All this time Glenn never suspected that it belonged to the gardener, seeing that the gardeners he knew where impoverished like his own family. A job of manual labor belonged to the poor and it had always been that way. However, it seemed that the gardener (or rather, Avary, as he shall hereto be named) made himself rather comfortable in the home which Glenn decided could not be his. He pushed open the door to show a comfortable single room apartment with a roaring fire and detailed rugs on the floor.

As they stepped inside Glenn was surprised to see quite a few things that he would never expect to see in a gardener's home (if this home did belong to him). There were all manner of weapons hanging on the wall, each one held in a lavish sheath that held the crest of their nation. There were many books that lined cherry wood shelves which Glenn could not read. However, it seemed to send the message that Avary was no ordinary gardener.

The two old men sat in old chairs (these chairs were the perfect kind, where your weight barely sinks inward so that it feels the chair itself is wrapping around you) and began to discuss names and family matters which were lost to Glenn. He found his surroundings a bit more interesting than the conversation and found himself staring at a portrait of a young man in Porre armor. Once again, the soldier in the portrait seemed oddly familiar. Glenn also began to look through the volumes of books (of course he asked for permission) and although he could not read he was more than happy to view the many pictures that littered the volumes.

"Well, shall we test each other then?"

Glenn spun about. He was not certain how much time had passed, but it more than enough for the old gentlemen to see that it would be rude to keep the young boy from his day any further. Therefore, Glenn hesitantly put a leather bound volume back onto the shelf and followed the old men outside to an open part of the garden.

Glenn followed behind and finally managed to ask very softly, "Excuse me, sirs? What shall thy test be?"

Avary only smiled and said, "Thou shalt observe."

Avary motioned for Glenn to step a distance away from the two men who faced each other at twenty paces apart. He did so with a confused expression which only seemed to cause the pair to smile broadly. Glenn could feel himself blush as the men chuckled at some unseen joke. It only made him wish he left.

But only for a moment…

Have you ever seen a friend or a person do something that you would never expect them to do? Your reaction would depend on what they had done. A shy lover would cause his counterpart to swoon by suddenly doing something rash and unforeseen. A lackluster student could astound the most composed teacher with a spirited response, causing a lofty sense of surprise.

Keeping this in mind, we must see how Glenn views all the elderly. His vision is relatively the same as how we view our own. There are times when we see the elderly as feeble. He also imagined that they lived in a state of constant pain, seeing how most of the old people he had ever seen would hobble down the streets. And also, (and much like _we_ would expect) he would never expect an older gentleman to have the strength of a bear and the speed of a leopard.

A hiss of sharp breath came from each side as the two men dashed towards each other, their boots kicking up clods of snow and blades of grass. Glenn almost fell backwards in surprise at their speed, but he was awed when he saw Avary leap into the air with the grace of a doe. It did not even seem as if he jumped or as if he fell. It almost seemed as he floated back down to the ground while Tristen twisted his entire frame around, spinning a leg about so that it came over his head. The heavy boot came barreling down on a pair of crossed arms, cradling the blow. Avary pushed forward, causing Tristen to step back. It was Avary who made the next blow; he stood so that he was anchored on a leg that pointed away from Tristen, but quickly shifted his weight onto his other leg so that the anchored foot flew towards Tristen's stomach. The reaction was instantaneous and showed that whatever strange style of fighting this was, these men had studied it for years. Tristen reacted in such a way that Glenn never thought possible. He saw Tristen cross his wrists as Avary had done before, only the palms and the vice-like fingers faced outward, waiting for the impact. He could see that Tristen winced from the blow, but even a novice to the art of war such as Glenn knew that if the blow landed on the stomach it would be more devastating. However, the arms did more than cradle the blow; his fingers gripped his boot so that a simple jerk would cause his leg to bend, causing his entire body to spin awkwardly in the opposite direction.

"I have thee now…" Tristen said with a gleam in his eye.

Avary only stood with a gleam in his own eye that suggested that this was far from the truth, "Thou art forgetful. There are always ways to escape a hold."

Tristen had a slight change of expression which seemed to be a world of surprise as Avary leapt on his anchored foot, sweeping it so that it came up to Tristen, who continued to hold the foot, but stepped back. The foot missed his face, but the momentum of his spin caused his foot to break loose from the hold. Tristen laughed in amazement as Avary landed with feline grace. Tristen rushed forward, but was stopped by a single hand which announced the end of the warm up. The two older men looked towards Glenn who seemed as if he witnessed the most amazing thing in his life.

Glenn never believed in fighting and he never really cared for it when he would see drunkards battling against each other in Beggar Lane. However, this fighting was far more different than anything he had ever seen. It almost seemed as if it were a lightning quick dance that seemed to rely more on self defense than attacking an individual. Compared to the awkward and clumsy movement of the drunkards who fought constantly in his neighborhood, these men moved with as much power and grace as he had ever seen. He clapped enthusiastically while the two men blushed appreciatively.

* * *

"What is that?" Glenn asked while they sipped warm apple cider. 

They were inside once again, each one carrying a wooden mug in their hands which belonged to the house. This time Glenn seemed to have no trouble believing that the gardener, Avary, at least _lived_ here. (It was still incredible for him to believe that a humble gardener owned such a nice place). He was leaning forward in his seat, his mood completely different from the first time they sat inside the room.

He was leaning forward in his seat, listening to every detail as he learned many interesting things from Avary. In fact, so great was his interest that the rambling of two old men became a course of inquiries which was greatly intriguing for all who participated.

"Thou art members of the army to thy majesty?"

"Aye, and have been for many years. Methinks it has been a score and ten years since I have been released."

"On what grounds, good knight?" Glenn asked leaning forward.

Avary smiled and seemed bashful as Tristen laughed, "Hold thy tongue, young friend! More than a simple soldier was he! 'Twas the head captain, this one!"

Tristen patted him affectionately on the back while Avary mused, "Aye, but if you were to see our lives though our own eyes, thou wouldst believe him to be the captain!" They both laughed as they tipped their mugs together before finishing the rest in a single draught.

"Why hast thou pardoned thyself from the service of the king, may I ask?" Glenn pressed.

"Pardon me; there comes a time where one tires of the old and longs for the new. Along with that, I missed my family horribly."

"Thou hath a family?"

The conversation suddenly turned somber, "Had, my friend. I had a family. I had a daughter who married a man from Guardia; I have seen naught of her for nary a decade. My wife had been taken of me, but into far better hands, I trust. My son doth serve his majesty now, but only his station is far from here."

"Know he thy methods of combat?"

Avary nodded, "Aye, 'twas a method passed down from generation to generation. Even my daughter is learnt in the skill. However, she practices no more, and if my son were to meet an early end, it would be finished."

Glenn looked to the floor, "How sorrowful…"

"There is a chance. There doth be a reason I have conjured thee here."

"And what is thy reason?"

"I wish to teach thee this skill for defense."

Glenn blushed, "I am honored sir, but I fear that I shall not suit thy rigorous regimen. I am small of stature, with nary a muscle to my bone!"

Tristen guffawed (perhaps out of boredom or perhaps he wanted to enter the conversation again, but regardless, he continued) "Hast thou ever stolen an egg from the nest of its mother?"

"I say that I have not."

"And why is that?"

"The mother goes mad and attacks those who try such a thing."

"Art thou bigger than that bird?"

"Of course."

"Why runnest thou? 'Tis a small and seemingly easy a foe, but when brave and willing to forego danger, it becomes a threat to be reckoned with."

Avary laughed and pointed at Tristen with his thumb, "Doth thou comprehend the abstract lesson of this philosophic fool?"

They all laughed and when they settled down Glenn could not help but ask, "Why asketh thou a simple boy like myself?"

"Those bruises…From whence do they come?"

Glenn looked down to the floor at those words and the once jovial surroundings turned into awkward silence. Glenn wished to stand and run from them, but it almost seemed as if his body forbade it. A cold chill engulfed him and he realized that the gardener knew the truth. And then the chill became colder still when he realized that perhaps everyone else knew. A flood of emotions and embarrassments came to him all at once and he finally found the strength in his legs.

"I must take my leave."

"Cease thy worries and shame, art thou willing to leave the company of friends to be with troubles?"

When Avary had said this, Glenn was within an arm's reach of the door. He could feel the cool handle against his skin as his hand trembled upon it. Slowly, the grip began to loosen and his hand dropped to his side. Avary took this as an invitation to speak, "Perhaps thou doth feel dishonor and horror at my knowing. However, hast thou forgotten that thou art loved? Doth thou know of the concerns of all those I know for thee? The whole lot of us worry for you. Thou art well-known in these streets for thy kindness and humility. However, there are those that will take thy kindness for weakness and they shall abuse you. As the good book sayeth, you may very well 'turn the other cheek', but do not forget that thou only have a pair. You may be struck twice, but then I suggest that thou doeth the striking."

"I wish to be good; I wish to be kind to all people. I will not be as those who despitefully use others."

"Do you not also believe there should be justice?"

"Aye, god is just."

"What justice have these rogues received?"

Glenn was silent.

"Glenn, there are times where men must stand up for themselves. God may help his children, but inevitably they must make the choice and open the door. Mayhaps you could merely study and when you know of a certainty what is right, thou mayest use thy knowledge freely. The Lord doth say that all should prepare for anything conceivable, is it not so?"

He was silent still.

"Wilt thou train under me? Wilt thou accept my help which I so willingly give?"

He was silent longer. Tristen was no longer willing to speak, but leaned forward as he searched for a reply. He watched as Glenn tensed his fist and let it tremble while a battle between right and wrong unfolded in his mind. Finally, the silence was broken.

"Aye…I shall train with thee. Perhaps I may find a peaceful situation, but I shall learn only because thou asketh this of me."

Note: I don't know if we are still allowed to leave notes after a part of the story. In anycase, I hope you all enjoyed it. I think I'm going to switch to this story for a while. I've been away from it for too long...I could tell because it was hard to write archaic:)


	5. Differences of Defense from Contention

_**The Deformed Knight**_

_A small collection of stories containing the adventures of Glenn before his most epic journey._

_Chapter Four: The difference between contention and defense…_

Green had taken precedence over white and the fragrance of flowers slowly filled the air. The beautiful, yet lifeless winter had begun to end and life followed. Even the people who traveled through the streets were no longer huddled over and breathing into their hands, but were cheerfully waving to people they knew in passing. As for Glenn, the training he had undergone had become much more pleasant.

At that moment the old gardener and Glenn stood side by side. The old man closed his eyes, allowing himself to feel his deep breathing while he moved slowly in predetermined steps. Although he had developed much more improvement, Glenn's moves and balance seemed awkward in comparison to Avary and his expertise. Every once in a while, Avary would open an eye and look towards Glenn and offer a comment. Unlike most teachers, who were never adept to offering criticism, Avary was the most complimentary and considerate teacher that Glenn would ever have in all his years.

"Thou art improving, young one." He would always say, or at times when he disapproved he would calmly say, "We must try again."

Glenn, very much like an inexperienced student, was disappointed that he was not immediately leaping high in the air with ease or running at neck breaking speed. However, he was gifted with patience which is the most necessary thing when it came to learning something so sophisticated. He had also inherited something that causes a lacking student to suddenly surpass all others; he hated to disappoint others. When someone learns for their own benefit they tend to be compromising in their efforts, but if they truly care for the person and do not want to let that person down they become a student who learns from his mistakes. After all, the worse your emotions hurt from a mistake, the less you want to do it again. That had been a very important lesson that Glenn had learned over the last few months of winter. He no longer lied to anyone, but only told them that it was his business and his alone, which probably made matters worse, but at the same time made him feel better. His parents would try to keep him in sight every chance he had, the priest would give him uncertain glances, and slight rumors began to spread. Although it was an inconvenience, Glenn was fortunate to have his martial arts to study, distracting from his problems, creating a momentary escape from the cold world. Unfortunately the Christmas which he had hoped for was rather disappointing and no amount of training could lessen that sting, considering the bullies still attacked him on occasion and took his earnings. Although he was learning an art of self-defense, he never raised a hand against his opponents.

* * *

"Why do you not fight? Why dost thou receive such abuse?"

The snow had melted away and all that remained of winter was the frigid nights and green grass covered in morning dew. The morning seemed to have cheerfulness about it, almost suggesting or promising to the world that winter had finally ended. Meanwhile, this happy proclamation was lost on a frustrated teacher who observed a fresh arrangement of bruises and cuts that adorned the face of his apprentice.

"Dost thou remember my agreement? I would find a peaceable solution."

"The solution only seems peaceable to these rogues! Have all my teaching fallen upon death ears?"

"They have not. I do retain this knowledge that thou hast shared with me."

"Then show me. Show me if you can."

Such invitations to spar were common. Although the teacher was very loving and incredibly patient, it was easy to see that such things can run short. When that occurred he would challenge Glenn to a spar. Although they would usually start off with an argument, it was never vicious and meant to hurt others, but this time there was something different about whole thing. Avary would often unclench his muscles before delivering a blow, and Glenn would usually counter; only he did nothing of the sort this time. The master did not slow his blows nor did Glenn counter. He only eluded the blows by either pushing the arms past him or quickly side-stepping or bowing.

"Why dost thou hesitate? Strike me down if thou retain the skill!" The master grunted as air blew by Glenn's ear.

"I will show unto thee what a gentle answer bringeth…"

It was at that point that Glenn did something rather unexpected. The master was astonished to see that he fell to his knees, his arms dangling at his side. His whole entire body was slack as he kneeled motionless in front of the master who stood with a gaping maw. No sound escaped either, and the only sound that reached them was the pleasant chirping of birds and the bubbling of a nearby fountain. Glenn only smiled sweetly as the master groaned, letting his arms fall to his side. Glenn then looked up at him and said, "Now doth thou see what meekness can accomplish? Now doth thou see the power of submissiveness?"

There are several things that you must never do when you are under the teaching of a master; you must never forget to fulfill your promises to him, you must never speak out of turn, and you must never presume that you need to be the teacher. It was at that moment that a pleasant glee filled Avary to the point he could barely contain his smile. Glenn smiled in triumph as his thoughts were that he somehow taught his master a greater good.

That was when he felt his collar go tight around his neck.

Glenn immediately felt his smile fall from his face as he felt his body hoisted in the air. He felt his feet dragging on the grass as he continued to stay limp. As he felt his body being pulled, he realized that the bubbling from the fountain only grew louder and louder until he realized what his master's intentions were. "Master, you do not mean to…?" It was at that moment that Glenn began to struggle to free himself from his grip, but by then it was too late.

Glenn felt his body fly through the air, watching the icy cold water of the fountain growing closer and closer until he felt his body submerge in what felt like snow. He was under for less than a second before he broke the surface of the water, gasping for air, the coldness of the water taking his breath away. He scrambled away from the fountain, dripping wet from head to toe as he rubbed himself vigorously in a futile effort to warm himself. Meanwhile, he could not help but glare at his master that laughed raucously at his shivering. Glenn flung his arm out, sending droplets of freezing water flying towards Avary, which calmed down his loud laughter.

"I do beg thy forgiveness. Come, Glenn. Let us return to warmer environs, eh?"

* * *

The once sopping clothes hung from a rope that stretched across the small apartment while Glenn, who was completely dry and in a shirt for too big for him, sipped hot cider while Avary polished a beautiful sword that he took down from the mantle. It had been silent for a while, seeing that Glenn was still rather upset, seeing that his plan had worked out the exact opposite way. But why? His master did not strike him down, but he threw Glenn into a freezing water fountain. Glenn struggled to think of the possible reasons and it must have showed.

"Doth thou wonder on the events of the day?" Avary asked, almost as if he read his thoughts.

"Why didst thou throw me into the fount? You could have easily struck me down if that was your intention."

"I had no need to strike you, Glenn. You had already lost."

"What dost thou mean?"

"When you bowed to me, full of submissiveness, full of meekness, thou hast relinquished thy strength and I was free to do with thee as I wished."

"It was a foul thing to do, and you know it!" Glenn said, harrumphing and crossing his arms, "A man of mercy would have ceased…"

"Do all enemies have mercy?" Avary asked as he sheathed his sword, "Did thy enemies show thee mercy when thou was trodden down, underfoot?"

Glenn was silent as he mind raced, but he found no reply.

"Glenn, there are times when you will face dishonorable men; men who lack the holy traits that thou has been blessed to receive. When thou submitted thyself to me, what part of me did thou sue for peace? Thou hast appealed to my sense of mercy, is it not so?"

He nodded.

"There are men out there who have no mercy, nor love for their others. When they have no mercy and will not hesitate to do with you as I had done, will thou lie there still, or will thou struggle as thou hast done?"

"But to fight, is that not evil?"

"Was it thou that sued for violence? Nay. Why must thou be subject to the whims of others when thou hast wishes of thy own? Perhaps you may ask thy priest concerning such things. It seems thou will not see to the task until you receive his opinion." There was a certain tone of cynicism that Glenn did not like.

"Hast thou anger towards the priest?"

"No, my young friend," Avary said slowly, "it is merely the heart of a troubled soldier. I find it hard at times to believe there is a god."

Such a thing was very foreign to Glenn and it was greeted in such a way that a tender child would receive it; in disbelief. "Why dost thou doubt?"

"Such horrible things happen to those good of heart, much like you. I have experience the depths of sorrow and I have seen many good things disappear. I wonder at times, but I never arrived to know the answer with such conviction as thou hast. However, when I see thy kindness I feel something within me burn as hot as any furnace." There was a moment where he averted his eye, and Glenn swore he saw a teardrop, "Aye, I speak nonsense. Perhaps thy raiment is dry. Be off with you now and consult thy priest. Thou hast said unto me that thou hath asked for his knowledge on the matter?"

Glenn hastily put on his attire while saying, "Aye, he said that he would read scriptures and share them unto me when they had been found."

"Off with thee, then! May we meet tomorrow!"

There was a tense moment where Glenn felt something urge him to do something that he had never done before. Avary only looked at him as if he did not understand why he had not begun to leave, but as Glenn stood there, hands in his pockets, he could not help but ask why he had not left yet. His answer was rather sudden and it took Avary by surprise. His arms wrapped around Avary and gave him a deep embrace that he had not felt since years ago. Avary closed his eyes, awkwardly, and then naturally returning the embrace. They finally separated and Glenn left the old man, who had seen more horrible things than we can imagine. He never cried (although he felt deep sorrow) when his comrades died, nor when he was shot by an arrow or stabbed by a blade. However, that moment, several drops rolled down his cheeks as Glenn left him to attend to his other duties.

* * *

"It doth please me to see thy face again. It has been a while."

"Aye, mayhaps too long if I dare say it."

The priest chuckled as he walked over to his table, producing an old pair of spectacles, "It is not I who have kept thee away, rather it was thou that has kept thy distance."

"It was of poor character that I had not visited thee for these many weeks." Glenn said in an apologetic tone.

Now something should be said here concerning their visits. Glenn never visited when he made deliveries for the baker. Instead, he would make his rounds and then return to visit his many friends that became fond of him through his work. Although he nearly saw the priest every single day, it had been weeks since he actually sat down to visit him. During the course of their visits they would talk about many things, as did the other people he visited. In their last visit a few weeks ago they discussed that same scripture which could be found at the beginning of the third chapter.

The priest beckoned Glenn to have a seat to which he gladly obliged. As he sat the priest cleared his throat and looked at him congenially. He also said how great it was to have him here and that he had found the answer to his question the moment he left. He also gave him another little scolding that if he had been here as usual, he would have had the answer sooner. He then cleared his throat again and said, "Thou hast asked of me if contention would be acceptable if thou were to defend thyself. I had come across such an example."

He opened a large book which Glenn had seen many times before. Its pages were well-worn by time and use, but were still in good condition. There were several bookmarks stuck within its pages, most likely having to deal with certain problems he researched for others who worried as Glenn did. There was a look of excitement as he reached the desired passage. "Perhaps I should explain unto thee the situation that befell these people. There were a group of people that were wicked and violent. They ravaged the lands of the righteous and caused misery to all; however a man came to them and with love showed them that no happiness ever came from misery or causing it. The people converted unto the lord and they buried their weapons into the earth, swearing an oath before god that they would never fight again."

"How amazing." Glenn said excitedly, leaning forward on his chair. It almost seemed as if these pages spoke to him.

"It is; but that is not the end." The priest said, humming laughter to himself. "They were only a small fraction of these ne'er-do-wells. They left their nation to join that of the righteous, but then a great war occurred. Much like your assailants,"

"How dost thou know of them?" Glenn spurted out, suddenly worried.

"Calm thyself, Glenn. We had known. Now let me tell the story. Much like your assailants, they desired wealth and prosperity by taking it from others. They wished to bind the nation of the righteous into slavery and we both know that the scriptures say, 'no nation shall be made on the backs of slaves.' To protect their freedom the righteous went to arms, knowing that they would forfeit their freedom if they did nothing. The war was long and arduous and the people who have made the covenant never to fight felt such love for their new kinsmen that they desired to break their oath."

"What happened next?" Glenn said, seeing how much sense this made to him.

"These people had made this oath in their younger days and since then have bared children. Their children reminded them of their oath and swore to take up arms in their place, seeing that they made no oath. They joined the fight and they numbered two thousand."

"'Tis a small amount." Glenn said, perhaps a little anxiously, fearing what this could mean.

"This is why this story is so miraculous. Now that thou know the story, here are a few words: 'And they entered into a covenant to fight for the liberty of the people, yea, to protect the land unto the laying down of their lives; yea, even they coveted that they never would give up their liberty, but they would fight in all cases to protect the people and themselves from bondage." It was at that moment that the image of Glenn's defeat came into his head. He remembered how easily he was taken by Avary, struggling without escape. He remembered how helpless he felt and that was when he realized he had, in a sense, lost his freedom. He then realized how often he felt that same helplessness at the hands of his bullies. The priest continued, "It was at this point that a great battle occurred a day from their current location, and they received word by a messenger that their comrades were to fall by the sword. It was at this point that their captain, who feared for them exceedingly, asked if they follow him into battle. 'Therefore what say ye, my sons, (he loved these soldier as if they were his sons) will ye go against them to battle? And now I say unto you, those that read or hear these words, that never had I seen such great courage. They had said unto me that our god was with us and he would not suffer that we should fall; they also cried saying, we would not slay our brethren if they would let us alone (for they truly had remorse for their enemies) therefore, let us go lest they destroy our friends."

"If only we had such valiant soldiers in our day," Glenn mused in amazement, "such courage. How did the battle fare?"

The priest said nothing save for the words that he read, which were thus: "'and it came to pass that I did return with my two thousand warriors against these bandits and we saw that a terrible battle had commenced. The fellow army, having marched a long distance was fatigued insomuch that they were about to fall by the sword. Had we not returned, they would have must assuredly perished. Instantly we did surround the bandits on both sides with my army and our others, insomuch that the bandits lost all confidence, yea insomuch that they were compelled to deliver up their weapons of war and themselves as prisoners of war. And now it came to pass that when they had surrendered themselves up to us, behold, I numbered those young men who had fought with me, fearing lest there were many of them slain. But behold, to my great joy, there had _not one soul of them fallen to the earth_; yea and they had fought as if with the strength of god; yea never were men known to fight with such miraculous strength. Although there were many wounded, the battle had been one without as much as a single death.'"

"So although they were not to die, they still suffered and their faith was tried…" Glenn said, rubbing his chin as he pondered.

"And now you see the differences between defense and contention. You are of good heart, Glenn. I know that thou would shrink to cause pain to anyone. However, this can be a cruel world and there comes times were even the righteous must defend their lives at the expense of others. Remember how these warriors wept as they dwelled on what the war would bring. A good man shrinks to end the life of another, but will gladly defend the lives of others and his own. God hath given thee life, and I am sure that it would not sit well with him if thou would not treasure it."

"I think I understand now. When there is no other way to end contention, you must defend yourself."

"I believe that is so," the priest said with a nod, "one must…Glenn, where goest thou?"

Glenn had risen from the table and walked towards the door with a certain type of anxiousness, as if he were about to do something he would refrain from doing if he were able, "I have matters to attend to. I thank thee again; thou hast eased my mind a great deal."

And with that, Glenn walked out the door and out of sight.


	6. A Brave Stand for Choice

_**The Deformed Knight**_

_A small collection of stories containing the adventures of Glenn before his most epic journey._

_Chapter Five; a Brave Stand for Choice…_

The story he had just heard burned within his heart insomuch that the very thought of living under those brutes was unbearable. He relished the story in his mind; waiting to share it to his parents when he returned home after doing what he had put off for many months. Sometimes a story can have so much of an actual affect on people it can give them courage is it did to Glenn. The streets which he did not dare to travel were no longer sealed to him by the searching eyes of his enemies. He walked out right in the open as if his skin was made of armor and nothing could penetrate it. Surprisingly, he found nobody in Fisk's gang on the main roads. He began to walk up and down the alleyways, asking people if they had seen a boy to his description. Finally, he found a single boy that belonged to his entourage.

"Oy! Art thou the friend of Fisk?"

The boy perked his head up, taking his eyes away from a sign he was reading. It took him a moment to realize who had just called him, and when he did his surprise turned into a smug grin. He stood with his feet shoulder-length apart, hands on his hips, even offered a chuckle. "I am…Art thou the weakling who has failed to pay tribute to his subjects for so many days?" He cracked his knuckles as he drew near. A single victory can have a strange effect on an unrealistic mind. This boy, having seen the subject of ridicule bleeding on the ground so many times, had thought that he would simply relinquish his money again with no trouble.

"Give me the tribute! Do not even dare to utter a whisper to Fisk about this meeting and I shall spare thee a whippin' that will sore thee to thy very bones."

"There will be no more tribute." Glenn said very calmly and collectively. He was so calm that the boy was stunned for a moment.

And as usual, when a slow person cannot think of a reply he merely does what is natural to him; he starts a fight, "I will shut that mouth of yours!"

He ran at him, meaning to tackle him to the ground, pin his arms with his knees, and tenderize his face with no fear of retaliation. That had been his favorite method in times past, but he had failed to realize that Glenn was no longer willing just to trip him and let him lay while the others worked on him. This time he wanted to send a message. It was very easy for him to side-step, putting a foot in his way. The way the boy fell was extremely comical, but looked very painful. He took the full brunt of the fall with his chin, getting it scraped in the process. The boy quickly scrambled to his feet, gingerly prodding his scrape and wincing at the touch. He fumed and said, "You will pay for that, boy."

"I am warning thee; cease this foolishness, promise that thou will let me be, and no harm shall befall you." Glenn looked as if he were giving a business proposal.

"Like hell I will!" The boy yelled, charging again.

A fist flew towards Glenn's face, but having experienced a faster punch, dodging this was not a problem in the least. Another fist followed after another until Glenn was tired of offering warnings and dodging. The boy swung again; an uppercut. Glenn did not pull away to avoid the punch, but shot forward instead, burying his shoulder into the boy's chest. The boy gasped as he stumbled backward. Glenn wasted no time, pulling a right arm with his left, and slamming his right elbow into the boy's ribcage. Glenn let go at once and the boy fell down to the ground. The boy gasped for air, putting his head to the cobblestone.

"I will do that again unto thee if thou persist in this foolish endeavor. Tell Fisk to meet me at the alley were Baker Street crosses with Central. We shall end this."

Glenn walked away, leaving the bewildered child to gather his breath and run to a place his friends usually gathered.

* * *

The sun was beginning to set while Glenn sat quietly on an old barrel. This was a quiet place where nobody would disturb them. It was rare when people came behind these houses, seeing that all businesses were done at the front. After what seemed to be ages of waiting, he saw a few shadows creep around the corner. These shadows belonged to five boys who carried a malicious glint in their eyes, save for one. The single other was hesitant and if you were to remove his shirt you would see the beginnings of a large bruise on his chest and ribcage. 

"Thou hast decided to return as well?" Glenn said in almost a pitying way.

"Thou 'ave caused injury to me friend here. My question to thee concerns the poss'ble ways thou may soothe his pain." Fisk frowned and stepped closer until he was face to face with Glenn.

"In all honesty, thou owest many reparations unto me for thy abuses." Glenn said firmly.

"I owe thee nothin'," he spat on Glenn's foot while giving him a threatening glare, "an' if ye say any diff'rent, thou will be feelin' rightly pained."

"It is my wealth. It is my work. I will not worry about what thou owest me, only I ask that thou trouble me no longer." Glenn said, hopefully.

Fisk turned to face his friends, yelling out in a taunting tone, "It seems our comrade 'ere believes he has a choice! What say ye? Shall we spare him?"

"No." Was the calloused reply.

Glenn did not wait for an honest face-to-face challenge to start this match. As far as he was concerned, these brigands did not deserve the satisfaction that people of honor receive before an actual duel. He put all his weight into his back foot, placing his hands on Fisk's chest and hip, shot forward, and sent Fisk flying backwards into two unsuspecting children. They fell backwards in a heap while two others half-laughed.

Fisk shot to his feet while the other two struggled to their feet. With a look of pure anger, he repeated the same mistake that his companion made earlier that day. Glenn only had to side-step again, only he grabbed Fisk's arm as he passed, twisting it so he had to flip on his back, hitting his head against the stone street. By the time Fisk clasped his head the other two charged forward, swinging with reckless abandon. Glenn put himself into a spot where he was in between these two, and he nearly shrank from a move that would end this. He knew how much pain-stricken fear it would cause, but as he saw Fisk begin to rise with new resolve he realized that a drastic infliction of pain was the only thing that would end this.

Just as the last two were about to interfere, Glenn shot down so that his knees were above his toes, his feet staying shoulder-width apart during the whole scuffle (which was the basic of all moves learned in his art). The two grabbed the clothing that hung about his body while his two fists shot out towards their necks. The blow landed right in the area above the collar bone where the breath passes through. The effect was what he wanted; the two fell to their knees, a single hand bracing their weight as they leaned forward, another going to their necks.

There are those who have never suffered such a blow, but I can most assuredly tell you that it is a very harrowing experience. It is not lethal, (if done correctly and softly) but it certainly weakens the enemy long enough that it could be obtained if that was truly the desire of a black heart. The air is not taken, but the pain of the blow causes the breath to suddenly leave, and once it does air cannot return until the body naturally rights itself. If you do not know this, than the feeling is very much like being choked. And if you do not know that feeling, and I consider you lucky, it is very much like staying underwater, but something prevents you from surfacing and you realize that you cannot hold your breath for long. It feels as if your lungs will burst, but after a few moments you begin to breathe sweet, cool air once again, but you can still feel the pain in your chest where the lungs reside. That was why the two who were struck down backed away quickly, leaving Fisk to face Glenn alone.

Fisk did not even look around to see if his friends were assisting him. Like a raging bull, he charged blindly towards Glenn, stopping in front of him and throwing punches that landed no where. In fact, his punches flew so hard that he stretched his ligaments, causing them to be sore for days afterwards. Such a punch was heading straight for a point where Glenn knew he could not dodge. That was when the words of his teacher came to his mind saying, _"What I shall teach thee is the way to restrain opposing force. All force can be manipulated if thou knowest the way."_

It was at this point that Glenn knew he had the capacity to obtain great things, because his limbs began to move so fluidly that he swore he could impress his master indubitably. For those who do not know how to prevent a punch, let it be known that it is foolish to stop a force head on. It the punch veered for your head, pushing against the part of the arm towards the inside part of the body it would alter the force in such a way that the opponent can not feel it. Fisk can witness to that, seeing that he put so much power into a punch to have it turned away with barely a touch of the hand. He was stunned when he saw the fist of his opponent coming towards him.

The punch collided against Fisk's face, but he did not fall back. His head whipped backwards and he brought it straight again, only to see another blow heading towards his stomach. He doubled over, feeling a fraction of what his friends had felt. He also felt just a tinge of bile tickle the back of his throat. He rose again and began to swear profusely, swinging and kicking like a rampant child. Each one was blocked or diverted with ease and he could say nothing similar when it came to Glenn and his work. In the end, Fisk lay on the ground, staring up at Glenn who had sat on his chest. His knees pinned down his arms and Glenn did not smile sardonically as Fisk had done when he was in this situation.

"Thou shall make a covenant with me! Trouble me no more and no harm shall befall ye!" he looked up at Fisk's friends who were horrified into silence.

"Devil! Wretch! Rogue!" Fisk yelled as he tried kicking his feet in a desperate bid for freedom.

"Promise this unto me, and thou may return home!" A blow landed on Fisk's face and he began to wail.

"Thou dost not understand mine troubles!" Fisk shouted in between his tears.

"Swear it!" Glenn shouted one last time, taking him by the hair and lifting his head, slamming it backwards on the street.

"I swear! I swear upon my life! Please, release me!" Fisk was reduced to such a sobbing state that one could assume he could never be consoled.

At that point, Glenn saw it fit to rise to his feet. Fisk stumbled to his own, his balance having left him in a shower of blood and tears. His nose was bleeding, his lip was cut, and a fine black eye on his left was already beginning to show. He only gave Glenn a hesitant look before running away, crying like a baby while his friends followed behind him. It was only then that Glenn realized he did not even suffer a single punch and he had one. A broad smile graced his face and it never disappeared for the rest of that day.

Author's Note: Thanks again for reading. I feel better about this story right now than my other ones. There's going to be a twist, so stay tuned! Hey, you know what? Why in the world do they say "stay tuned?" It's not like you're going to reach for some dail on your computer and be all like, "Adios amigo!" Therefore, I will say, "Do not click that link! We'll be right back!" But, seriously, go ahead and click it, the next chapter probably won't be up for a couple of days.

...uh...have a good day...buh-bye... :)


	7. Two Sides to Every Coin

_**The Deformed Knight**_

_A small collection of stories containing the adventures of Glenn before his most epic journey._

_Chapter Six; Two sides to every coin…_

It may offend those who read these pages, but it is the sad truth: life is not fair. Very rarely is there a success without a price or a victory obtained without its own personal defeats. To Glenn it seemed as if his troubles were over. He felt a booming pride within himself, and maybe even a small degree of haughtiness. The days went by and he was harassed no further. His temperament improved dramatically and nobody was happier to see it than his parents.

Glenn never told the entire story to his parents, for he did not want them to know the complexities of his troubles. However, he retold his story with great enthusiasm to Avary, and his master beamed with pride as a result. However, as the story was retold again and again, the master would drift into thought as if there were something that escaped Glenn's observations. When Glenn would ask what caused him to ponder, his master would only say with a laugh and a wave of his hand, "'Tis nothing."

Yes, Glenn's life had quickly changed back to normal and he resumed his daily routines. However, one day, on his way to work he spied someone familiar in the streets. He had known that is was not polite to stare at a person, especially if their appearance was out of place. The boy whom he viewed had the look of someone who had been beaten soundly. Scratches and bruises covered his arms and the beginnings of other wounds were slightly covered by torn clothing that had been sown. As Glenn stared, he could see that the boy sensed his gaze and he turned around. Glenn nearly trembled as he saw a familiar face that held a large black eye. It was Fisk that stood across the street!

Glenn stared at him for a moment and Fisk stared back. For a moment it seemed as if Fisk had been trying to place a name or a memory to Glenn's face. (Or perhaps even dispelling disbelief at seeing him in such a random place). Glenn could see that Fisk suddenly remembered him, for he turned about abruptly and sped away, not looking back. Glenn felt great swagger go through him as he walked to the bakery. However, there was something that plagued the back of his mind.

"'Tis a few weeks since I have fought him. How strange that his wounds have not yet healed! And forsooth, I saw injuries I swear I did not inflict!"

* * *

The bakery was busy and thankfully there were no deliveries to be made that day. In truth, it was unfortunate to Glenn since the bakery grew unbearably hot without a step out into the cool air. Rather, it was a boon for the baker since he did not have to handle the workload alone. They moved fast, pounding dough and shaping it into even lumps, cooking it in the oven, and selling it to the consumers. When the storm of customers left they had a seat and the baker felt in a generous mood that day. He opened a small cask of unfermented wine and handed it to Glenn who had never tasted anything so sweet.

"Tell me Glenn…Have thee any better clothing than what thou wearest now?"

Glenn blushed, "I confess that I do not. Prithee, why dost thou ask me such a thing?"

The baker smiled and let his stomach comfortably protrude. "Business has grown…our customers grow more numerous every week. I may expand shortly, Glenn."

"What wonderful news!" Glenn said, smiling as he drained the final bit of the wine.

"It may please thee to know that our clientele is beginning to improve…mostly due to the recommendations of your friend the priest and your friend the gardener."

"And what relevance has this to my dress?" Glenn said, wondering how he would fit into this picture.

"I have hired another hand to assist with the bakery. Thou wilt delivery every personal order…and we have some new clientele in Mangaranon Lane."

A certain sense of dread mingled with excitement worked its way into Glenn's whole body. However, so that the reader may perfectly grasp the reason for his explorative apprehension, a history of Mangaranon Lane will be shared later. However, at this time, I may say that a street urchin such as Glenn should feel honored to walk the streets of Mangaranon lane with a mission. Meanwhile, the baker watched Glenn and smiled and felt as if he had done him a great favor. However, his features reversed as he remembered that he had bad news for Glenn as well. Glenn had noticed the look, but said nothing of it as the baker raised his head and saw a woman approach.

"Ah, and here comes the seamstress. She will take thy measurements."

"Thou hast already called upon her?"

"Aye. I have."

Glenn smiled and said, "I am indeed grateful for the trust thou hast bestowed upon me; but mayhap can I say without causing offense that this seems to be done in haste?"

"Nonsense!" said the baker with a wave of his hand. "I had planned to give thee this responsibility for a long while."

"Why today of all times?" asked Glenn, seeing something amiss in the baker's explanation.

The baker avoided his gaze and said with the air of a man holding a secret, "'Twas mere convenience is all. Let her measure you now, will you Glenn?"

The seamstress worked fast, and it was a very strange thing for Glenn to comprehend. He wondered what that strange rope was she carried and why she used stretched it across his chest and arms. He was truly ignorant to many things due to his marginal understanding of how things were done. This was a custom that was more suited to the middle class while those in poverty were forced to pass their already threadbare clothes to the next sibling in line. In truth, this would be Glenn's very first set of clothes that belonged to him. (Or at least that had been made for him especially). When he realized that he began to profusely thank the baker for his kindness, never before receiving clothes that had been made just for him. The seamstress smiled, having heard plenty about this kindly boy, and she took joy in his happiness.

* * *

Glenn refused a generous helping of bread and jam that the gardener offered to him. He quickly explained that he already had lunch with the baker that day and he shared the good news he received that day. Glenn also took the time to thank the Avary for praising his work to the upper class, to which he responded with a compliment dealing with Glenn's characteristics.

They spent some more time comfortably together and the conversation moved to the next time they would practice the art of fighting. They had decided that it would be the next day, but that brought another topic into Glenn's mind. It was the boy named Fisk that Glenn had fought before. Glenn recited the story excitedly and it earned him a reprimand from Avary when he saw that he was so proud of his enemy being so wounded. However, Avary smiled when he heard Glenn say how smooth and effortless the form was when it came down to a fight.

"Truly, the form you have taught me is a dangerous thing! It must be a few weeks and he is still damaged and bruised!" Glenn remarked.

Avary raised an eyebrow, "He nurses injuries still?"

"Aye," Glenn replied, "and it is odd for there are injuries there that I do not remember inflicting myself. Also, he ran so quickly when I saw him!"

Avary hummed to himself, stroking his chin and seemingly deep in thought. "Well, I know nothing of it, I suppose."

"Well, I beg thy forgiveness, but I must be on my way." Glenn said, raising to his feet and holding the deliveries with two hands.

"So soon?" Avary asked, seeing that Glenn held no desire to leave.

"It is important that I do my next duty as quickly as possible. The good baker saved the bad news for last."

"And what is the bad news?" Avary asked, taking a sip of his tea.

"I must make my way to Central Street once again to deal with an old, unpleasant customer."

"Nathaniel of Porre?" commented Avary who carefully put his tea back on the saucer. He looked at Glenn now with a face that held back a nameless emotion.

"Aye…'tis nothing I suppose. Maybe the good baker has been delivering to him this entire time while I handled the others."

"Art thou certain? How strange it would be for this Nathaniel to ask for thee now had he not been a steady customer as you suppose!"

"How is that strange?" Glenn asked. "We have customers that rarely order from us, but do so at least monthly without fail."

"Ah, it is nothing." Said Avary who rose to his feet with the help of a wooden cane. "I will let thee go about thy business. I shall see thee on the morrow, and be prepared to do the exercises that I have shown thee a few days ago."

"I will, master." Glenn said with a bow. And with that he went on his way.

* * *

Central Street had been a great deal quieter that day. It was good that the streets were empty, because Glenn had no worries about ducking through crowded markets and dodging horse-drawn carts. He did not need to ask for directions either; the memory of the horrid place was still fresh in his mind. He approached the home and noticed that there was shattered, brown glass near the door. Upon further inspection, Glenn saw that they were old liquor bottles that were continually trampled until they were in millions of pieces. This evoked a preparatory sigh from Glenn as he knocked on the door.

There was the sound of heavy footsteps and the door swung open. The brute stood in the doorway and looked down at Glenn. There was a very deep and troubling air about this man, but for the sake of professionalism Glenn pretended he felt nothing of the sort. He bowed and stated that he was here on behalf of the bakery and held aloft his delivery. Nathaniel looked at it appraisingly and held it up to his nose to smell it. He handed the bread back to Glenn and began to rummage through his own pockets. He looked up at Glenn with a face that suggested feigned embarrassment.

"I 'ave no money on me 'ere…" he said, shrugging and leaning up against the doorway.

"Ah, 'tis a shame. I cannot give thee the provisions until I receive payment." Glenn answered politely, but firmly.

The drunkard's eyes darted left to right and then went back to Glenn. "I have money here. Canst ye come in and rest while I search? Thou must be tired."

A dark feeling filled Glenn's chest and he looked about himself. "I thank thee for the kind gesture, but I confess that I do not lack comfort. I am well."

A cross look graced his face and his muscles tensed in annoyance as if he were knackered. "Thou would refuse me hos'pitality?"

"I do not, and I beg thy forgiveness, but I am short on time." Glenn, at that moment, felt something within scream and he felt every desire in the world to back away and run. However, he did not listen to that still, small voice.

"Then," said Nathaniel, giving one final look up and down the street only to see an old man in the distance, "we shall make time."

He grabbed Glenn so forcefully that he could not let out a scream. He could feel a grip as tight as a vice on him arm and he felt as if he flew into the darkness of the home that was permeated in the stench of alcohol. He felt himself fall facedown on a dirt floor and he quickly scrambled to his backside and frantically scooted against a wall. He looked at the face of a madman, but noticed that he was glancing toward a corner. Glenn's eyes followed his view and he saw two people that cowered in a corner as he did.

One was a woman who seemed to have been through every circle of hell that had ever been. It is very rare to see somebody who held such misery that it was almost tangible. Her face was battered and dirty and she cried bitterly as she shot glances toward Glenn. She held a boy in her arms that also wept bitterly and Glenn felt an immense sensation of bewilderment when he saw whom it was.

"Marline, Fisk, shut those damned contemptible mouths before I do it for ye!"

Glenn noticed that the woman (who was named Marline) looked at Glenn with a true sense of horror and pity. Glenn felt a strange connection with this woman who already showed him so much kindness with her visible distress. However, Fisk, the boy he had fought, did not look at him with that same pity. Rather, his eyes looked full of shame, fear, and embarrassment. After all, how horrifying it is for a bully to be seen as weak and helpless against a monster as strong as himself!

"You damned rodent! Stand!" Nathaniel towered over Glenn. When Glenn did not stand up, Nathaniel reached out and roughly pulled him up by the arm. Glenn instantly went back against the wall while he stood, but he was no longer the focus of Nathaniel's rage. He made his way over to the corner where the woman and Fisk cowered. The woman bawled wildly as an arm shot out for Fisk. She covered her boy and received heavy blows for it. Finally, with heart wrenching grief, she could cover Fisk no longer. He raised Fisk to his feet and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and pulled him close to Glenn.

"Tan his hide, boy."

Fisk stared at Glenn who could only gape as he saw an uncanny family resemblance that escaped him before. And inasmuch as Fisk terrified poor Glenn, even he was not so much the same as his father as we would believe. Fisk looked at his father and trembled. He formed the words nervously on his lips with his father watched on lividly.

"Father, I can't."

An open palm sped towards Fisk's face and he stumbled to the ground. Glenn moved forward to catch him, but felt a heavy hand shove him back into the corner. "What the hell is wrong with ye?" Nathaniel said, bending down to raise Fisk to his feet again. "Thy friends are not enough for thee, and now doth thou sayest that I am not enough for thee? When I say 'tan his hide' thou hast better damn well do it!" Fisk moaned pitifully and he tried to sink down to the ground again, but was repeatedly pulled to his feet by Nathaniel. After trying for the fourth time vainly, Nathaniel threw him roughly to the ground, cursing him for a coward.

"It seems my son has lost his nerve." Nathaniel said with a disgusted tone. "I will have to set things right myself. Come hither!"

Glenn dodged his heavy hand and ducked under a nearby table. He could hear those heavy tree-trunk legs thud against the floor as he circled around. With a grunt, Nathaniel lifted the table and threw it against the side of the small apartment, causing a few bricks to dislodge. He cursed Glenn, saying that would be something he would have to restore. He grabbed Glenn by the back of the clothes and threw him as easily as a child throws a stone. He landed roughly against the wall and the woman screamed horrifically as brilliant stars filled Glenn's vision. He shook his head loose and found that he was being lifted in front of Nathaniel.

"Now, hast thou suffered enough?" Nathaniel asked. "Where are thy earnings? Thou will tell me, I shall force it out of thy mouth with thy teeth!"

Glenn, who had been caught off guard by his rampaging fear, suddenly thought clearly and remembered what his master taught him in a flash. He reached out his hand and with all the power he possessed in his tiny fingers, pressed into the tendon a few inches below the wrist. This caused even the mighty giant to howl in pain, dropping Glenn to the floor as he gripped his sore wrist. Glenn, momentarily impressed by his bravado and skill, did not run as he should have, but thought himself strong enough to take on the beast.

He moved again, giving a jab toward a pressure point in the rib cage. The behemoth grabbed his rib in pain, but that did not stop him. The blow was not powerful enough to stun him as it would have for a person his age. Nathaniel was on him again, and he stopped an attempt at his windpipe by gripping Glenn's arm. He squeezed tightly and it almost felt to Glenn as if the two forearm bones creaked and rubbed against each other, pinching every nerve in between. Understandably, he winced hard enough to evoke small beads of tears in his eyes. He felt his body slam against a wall and he looked up at the boar.

Nathaniel was a notorious man for being short of temper, and nobody had ever seen him this angry. For a truth, there had been no man that ever picked a fight with him. There were many reasons, and the main one concerned his cruelty. Even to a simple child he showed no mercy. His hand went to Glenn's neck and he let loose a throaty growl of enjoyment as he heard Glenn gag for air. He continued to tighten his grip, all his reason being lost due to the pain in his wrist and side. Glenn's eyes turned bulbous as the capillaries in his eyes surged, turning them near red.

Marline shouted out as loud as she could, "Stop it! In the name of everything holy, stop it Nathaniel! Thou art killing the boy!"

Suddenly, a light filled the darkness, and quite literally. The front door burst open, the lock shattering the outward portion into splinters. Nathaniel, who was as livid as a bull, turned to see the old man he had spied down the street as he pulled Glenn into his abode. His hand was instantly loosed from Glenn's throat and he turned his attention to the strange visitor. Without another word, he charged at the old man.

The man needed only to turn to his side and the giant flew past him and fell on his face. Glenn quickly arose (or at least as quickly as he could) and joined Marline and Fisk who already went outside. The light burned his sensitive eyes, but when the brilliance cleared he could see Nathaniel taking wide swipes at the old man who evaded them without moving a pace. His feet stayed planted in the ground, his upper body and waist doing all the directing of the force he received from blows. This man, who was as large as anything Glenn had ever seen, was being treated like a child by this old man.

"Avary?" Glenn said to himself incredulously.

Nathaniel cursed loudly, drawing the attention of the many citizens on Central Street. Men of all sizes watched in amazement, but none dare help against this massive criminal. However, to their defense, Avary did not need the help. In fact, that was the reason that Nathaniel cursed so loudly. It was sheer frustration on his part. For every blow, Avary would advise cease his anger and relent. And for every advisory comment, Nathaniel would throw ten more blows. This had gone on long enough that the city guards had been called and joined the large crowd in watching a well know villain fight against a relatively unknown man.

At last it was about to come to a head. Avary pleaded a little more with the madman, "The game is over, Nathaniel. I know of your involvement here and toward Glenn. Give thyself up to the guard now, and avoid unnecessary consequence."

"Damn you old man!" At this point, Nathaniel said perverse things that he would do if he ever got a grip on Avary.

"This is the last warning I shall give thee. Cease this foolishness, or I shall break thy arms." Avary said this so coolly that those watching scarcely believed him.

"I'll kill you!" Nathaniel shouted in the midst of his thrashings.

"So be it…"

As soon as those words left his mouth, he acted out his promise. Another swing came toward his stomach, which he took. To the untrained eye, it seemed that Nathaniel dealt a blow. Instead, Avary moved in such a way that the blow slid off in a different direction and Nathaniel fell in the direction of his punch. As quick as lightning, Avary gripped his wrist with his index finger and thumb, twisting his own arm so that Nathaniel's arm was stretched and the elbow locked in place. He held Nathaniel who struggled vainly to get out of the grip. To Nathaniel's horror, Avary slowly placed his palm on his locked elbow and suddenly dropped his weight.

It did not even seem as if Avary moved, but there was sufficient evidence to believe that he did. The women in the crowd screamed and the men cringed as a wet and loud crack sounded in all their ears. There was a brief moment of silence before Nathaniel shot up and grabbed his arm, howling in pain. Avary stood as calm as a summer's day, watching the beast intently as tears poured from his eyes. In his rage, Nathaniel took another swing with his working arm. Avary had expected this and took a small step forward in time with his punch. Avary raised his left arm in a circle, parrying the blow that came with Nathaniel's right arm. He closed it over the outside of his arm, so that the pit of his arm covered the point of Nathaniel's elbow. With a twist of his torso, Avary evoked crack, another shout of pain, and the same reaction from the crowd.

The mighty giant, Nathaniel of Porre, whom no man dare faced, fell backwards to the ground and rolled like an infant. He tried to rise futilely, his broken arms twisting as he tried to push off the ground. Avary turned to the stunned guards and said with a polite nod, "This man is a danger to the community. Thou shall give him an extensive investigation if thou art decent sons of Porre." One guard saluted, knowing full well who this man was while the other looked at him with a certain reverence that a man bestows a stranger when had done something spectacular. The crowd drew near, beginning to press against Avary, but he quickly ignored them and moved toward Glenn.

Avary said with great concern, while searching him with his eye, "Art thou well?"

Without wasting another breath, Glenn threw himself at Avary and embraced him while shedding bitter and frightened tears. Avary returned the embrace, whispering encouragement to weep his fill. He patted him on the back and gave a condemning glare to the people who continued to harass them. Those who had not received the inclination to leave felt pangs of guilt and filed off, leaving the two alone in the street with the mother.

Fisk had gone after his father, weeping and wailing.

* * *

"It is a pleasure to meet you."

Although Glenn had told his parents about his friends, this had been the first time they had the chance to meet one besides the baker. They gave each other a warm embrace and they entered the gardener's home. They looked about with astonishment as Glenn had done the first time he set foot inside and it made him smile in self-appreciation that he knew of such things and that his parents had a chance to partake in it. They sat down and shared a lovely dinner together, compliments of the baker who apologized profusely for sending Glenn unknowingly to such a dangerous assignment. After dinner, they began to speak on the incident that had them worried.

"Why did this madman target our son?" Asked the father, feeling a bit of uneasiness and unwillingness to listen to the answer.

"Do not worry," said Avary, sensing the apprehension, "this man was a greedy and sick man, but not a perverse man."

"That is a relief to hear," the father said with a hefty sigh, "but what of his being marked?"

"I wondered the same, so I investigated the matter. I will speak in the order in which things have transpired. A while it has been now that Glenn made his first delivery to Nathaniel. Upon his first visit, no doubt Glenn noticed his dubious character, but Glenn was too innocent to realize the information he had given to Nathaniel by letting him hold his knapsack. Upon investigation by the guards, Nathaniel admitted to feeling and hearing a good deal of money within the bag when he held it. That day, he set his son out to rob him to allay suspicion on his part. It worked well, seeing that Glenn would have quickly confessed had an older man mugged him. Even if he did confess to the mugging done by Fisk and his gang, Nathaniel could have played the innocent patsy and would suffer no punishment."

"What manner of man-?" began Glenn's father vehemently.

Avary stopped him with a raised hand. "The money Fisk returned with was abundant to a drunkard looking for a free night at the tavern. He sent Fisk out again and again, reaping the benefits of his son's evil doing. Thou may care to know that the woman thou hast asked so kindly after, Glenn, had pleaded with the pair to cease their wickedness. She received many bruises from Nathaniel by doing so. At last, the day came that I offered my young student knowledge, which he hast so hesitantly accepted. The day he bested Fisk was the day Fisk received two beatings. Everyday the father would send Fisk out to find Glenn again, but he would return home and lie and say that he sought Glenn yet never found him. One day his father found out his lie and beat him mercilessly. That was when he sent for the baker as a matter of pride. He wanted thy money, Glenn, and he planned on using Fisk even still to rip it from thee."

"What of Marline?" Glenn asked anxiously, leaning forward in his seat.

Avary gave him a relaxed smile and said, "How happy I am that I hath chosen thee for a student! She is well beyond words and describes herself as a slave unchained. She had threatened to leave Nathaniel years ago, but he threatened her life."

The mother and father smiled as proud parents, forgetting and completely understanding the reason for Glenn's strange behavior months past. All was right with them.

"Does she plan to leave?" asked Glenn, a tinge of sorrow coming into his voice.

"Yes." Avary said, his voice suddenly taking a darker tone. "Upon further investigation, it was found that Nathaniel had committed many heinous crimes that are worthy of the executioner's block." A guilty look came over Glenn's face, which caused a hasty interjection, "But I will say unto you Glenn, that his crime against ye would have merited nothing more than a few weeks in the stocks. It was himself that had led his merry way to the executioner."

Those words, which made much sense to Glenn, still could not dispel a certain feeling of guilt. Even so, his concern for Marline was stronger. "How sad I am that I shall not have the chance to befriend and know her. I wish her well."

"She will visit thee in the morning, so worry not. She bid me tell you before ye left my sight. She has words of parting."

"Now," said the mother, rubbing her hands together, "let us leave such depressing thoughts and move onto more entertaining talk."

All laughed at her abrupt change in topic and the conversation became incredibly cheerful again.

* * *

The world was a dark blue yet people had risen from their beds and attended to their various duties. Spring had not yet come and the world was still in the grasp of winter, although its hold had loosened. It had not loosened its grip from the sun, and that was the reason why it seemed so early. The kindly woman walked through the town (with her son in tow) toward Beggar Lane and found the home that was described to her. She daintily knocked on the door, uncertain that the person she was visiting would still be resting or not.

The door opened and a smiling man greeted her, but gave a restrained look of judgment to her son. "Thou art Marline, if I am not mistaken? It is a pleasure to finally meet you."

She curtsied, which seemed odd for a woman of poverty to do; yet she meant it as a sign of great respect. "And it is my pleasure to tell thee, finally, in person, that thou hast done a fine job in raising thy son."

"My wife and I thank thee!" Glenn's father said, wrapping his arm around his wife. A pleased look came on his face, "My son has awoken!"

Glenn came to the door and smiled brightly when he saw Marline standing without. He went to the frame of the door and his happiness faltered when he saw Fisk standing there as well. He bowed respectfully to Fisk, who turned his head and looked off into the distance as if he did not acknowledge the gesture. Fisk, however, received a soft nudge from his mother and he bowed as well.

"I have come to tell thee in person," Marline began with bated breath, "that we are to start our lives over."

Fisk scoffed softly, but was only heard by Glenn. Marline continued, "I have family that I have not seen in years, but dear friends here have passed news on to them, and their news on to me. They have ached to see me again, and I long to leave Central Street."

"What a wonderful thing!" Glenn's mother remarked. "Whereabouts are they?"

"They live in the Kingdom of Guardia. They own an inn and they would be willing to take me on as a maid."

"That is such a long way!" Father remarked, "How will thou travel there safely?"

"I may thank kind Avary for that. He has shouldered the pay for a carriage. It will be a few days journey, but it shall be worth it. I will raise my son with a kind and loving family that he has yet to experience. We owe it all to thee, Glenn."

"_Yes_," Fisk said under his breath with great sarcastic tone. "_My father shall die and I shall leave all I know. All thanks to thee, Glenn._"

"Fisk!" Marline said with great annoyance, "Although it goes against my own wishes, I reluctantly forbade that thou apologize to Glenn merely for the reason that thou hast robbed him and tortured him so for the sake of thy own health. However, that is breadth of my patience and I will not have you say such things!"

He tore his hand out of his mother's grip. He began his diatribe, pounding his chest passionately as his tears flowed, "And thou sayest that we are so well off, and that we are so blessed to be rid of the man I call father! Thou art so happy that I am fatherless, and that this fool is our hero for bringing this about!" He turned to Glenn and said with great venom, "I _curse_ thee Glenn! I curse thee with all the hatred that I possess! Thou hast ruined my father! If thou hast sued for revenge, then Oh mighty merciful God, please let this misery slake his thirst!"

Glenn could feel his eyes dampen as Fisk began to cry on his own. "He hast threatened thee! He hast aimed to end me! What else could I have done?"

"Oh yes," Fisk said solemnly, his voice laced with suspicion, "what could have been done? And if there had been another way, would thou hast chosen it?"

"Fisk, I-" Glenn began to plead for forgiveness, but was stopped.

"May thou suffer the same pain that I have felt Glenn." Fisk said, pointing a shaky finger, "Then thou will know the harm that thou hast brought on me."

Marline reached out for Fisk, but he angrily brushed her away. He ran toward the square where the carriage was waiting, not looking back once. There was a strong silence that prevailed that was broken by a stifled sob. Marline looked down and instantly sunk to her knees, embracing Glenn. "No, no, no. Oh sweet angel, do not cry. Thou hast done no wrong." She spoke against his protestations and she reaffirmed repeatedly that Fisk spoke merely from anger and did not comprehend everything in its fullness. She patted his back and said, "He is only frightened; angry even. We will live happily now that we are free. He has lost much and gained much, but thou had no part in the loss!" She took him by the shoulders and shook him gently while looking at him in the face, "Do not blame thyself. Thou hast done more for us than thou shall ever know."

She rose to her feet and looked at the family who held heartfelt sorrow for all involved. She looked back down at Glenn and said one more time, "I thank thee, from the bottom of my heart. I know the day will come when Fisk shall do the same. Farewell, and my God bless you for your kindness."

And with that, Marline walked out of his life forever…

The years passed and occasionally there would be a letter written by her family, which she dictated. The letters spoke of great wonders and how she had learned to love again. She found a wonderful man who treasured her and provided for her for the rest of her days. However, Glenn never heard from Fisk nor did he receive thanks. Although the pain from his comments eventually were ebbed away, it would come back as fresh as the day it happened should something stir his memories.

What a sad world this place can be sometimes, where even the kindest soul can be so foolishly and wrongly accused of a great offense, yet still hold himself responsible. He had gained the respect of the community, the love of a grateful mother, the approval and praise of a teacher, and a feeling of security. However, that was only one side of the coin. His actions, however, also brought him to an instant where he would occasionally sit and reflect on what he could have done differently. What if he had told the truth from the beginning of the ordeal? What if he had just said nothing? These were the things that he would reflect on in his darker moments for years to come, and only he knew these consequences.

If only he never had to flip a coin at all…

_Author's Note: A pretty sad ending, eh? Don't worry. Life perks up for him later. I was really pleased with this chapter, seeing that it was the culmination of the previous ones where Fisk was involved. I was really pleased with this, so hopefully I can keep the ball rolling. It's refreshing to work on a different story every once in a while. Keep an eye open for updates on anything else I'm working on! ___


	8. Spoils of the Rich, Curses of the Poor

_**The Deformed Knight**_

_A small collection of stories containing the adventures of Glenn before his most epic journey._

_Chapter Seven; The spoils of the rich and the curses of the poor…_

Glenn walked through the streets, carrying the work of his master.

The day he had greatly anticipated came. It was the day he would enter the lavish grounds of Mangaranon Lane. However, he was still sorrowful over the many things that had just transpired; and where there should have been excitement, there was a sense of dread. This was not a simple crossing of roads; this was an entry into a world that had been sealed to his kind and that fact slowly dawned on him. No doubt, those who read these pages must wonder why there was uneasiness where there was once happiness and anticipation. Therefore, it is prudent that the history of Porre must be explained.

The Kingdom of Porre had its humble beginnings as does everything else. It was once a struggling commune. All citizens lived within the walls of the castle, which was the only structure that could keep them safe from the beasts of the wilderness or the bandits that used to exist in great numbers during those days. The people lived in equality, free of any caste as they battled for survival under squalid conditions. It was the firm promise of those pioneers that all men would live equally and share all things between them. However, as the population grew, so did the demand for food. There began to be scattered communities with quaint farmhouses and fields, which quickly turned into thicker towns, which finally rejoined the castle as a city.

Now that we have touched on the history of the kingdom, we shall discuss the history of the streets themselves. We know of Beggar Lane and the inhabitants who live in its muddy streets; but like everything in life there was an opposing spectrum. It was commonly mentioned in the Porrean Kingdom that Mangaranon Lane might as well have been the sun and Beggar Lane might as well have been the moon with all the differences it shared. The people who lived in Beggar Lane were known as the degenerates of society while Mangaranon Lane served as the home for nobility and sophistication. "Birds of a feather flock together" was the perfect idiom for describing the separation that existed between these classes.

The humble Porrean castle had been rebuilt many times, and the city was constantly undergoing transformation as they found prosperity. However, there were those who were not as fortunate or as prepared for the change. As the farmhouses turned into the poorer residences, the lands nearest to the castle became the street of nobility. The rich and powerful, whose business and affairs always drew them to the castle, took up residences nearest to their king. The ideas of classes within this society gradually came into being and a wall was built around the castle to keep filth out from its hallowed halls. Also, as the nobility claimed the lands nearest to the castle, they deemed it fitting to build a smaller gate to separate Mangaranon Lane from the peasants.

It is a sorrowful thing, to be sure, that this once humble kingdom shared all their joys and their sorrows only to distance themselves from their brethren. However, it must be admitted that had they retained their old ways the kingdom would have never progressed so quickly. Perhaps there will be no truly prosperous and equal kingdom until even the Lord God Almighty himself descends and personally guides the children of men. However, such a day is too far off for a scholar like myself to even comprehend, let alone this young man whom I took it upon myself to document.

Glenn walked down the cobblestone streets, which were well kept for the sake of the prosperous if they ever had a reason to venture out into the city. The wall, which Glenn followed, was built of red brick reaching to a height of seven feet and a thickness of four feet. Atop the brick wall was an ornate concrete slab accompanied with black iron pikes jutting out both ways to deter any who wished to climb over them. Also, there was a law that ordered no structure to be built within fifty paces of the wall, so there was no change of jumping over the gate. The only ways in were the many guardhouses that lined the perimeter of Mangaranon Lane, particularly the western entrance that Glenn approached.

He froze. Ahead of him he saw young men dressed in the uniforms of hired guardsmen. A group of five stood at the entrance, talking and laughing raucously. Their uniforms were a bright and brilliant red, lined with black trim and tin buttons painted gold. Their boots were cheaply made, yet they shined with fresh polish. The young men were clean-shaven, their hair neatly groomed, and armed with rapiers. Although they were in good spirits, there was a bad feeling that prevailed within Glenn.

Even in the innocence of his youth, Glenn knew all about the caste from the indignant mutterings of those who lived in Beggar Lane. The rules were generally unspoken on the side of the wealthy while those who were poor made their points loudly and without restraint. Although it might sound self-defeating at first, these guards proved the point. During his walk toward the guardhouse, he would occasionally see a patrolman. The patrolmen would give him sneers, notwithstanding the fact that he no longer held the appearance of a peasant with his attire, and it made him fear that something about his mannerisms gave him away.

Now, these guards were not noblemen. Rather, they were men hired by certain families to represent them and guard their fair streets. They were young men who lived in poverty, who received the honor of serving under nobility. They wore their bright uniforms, were given their weapons, and received authority to force their hand on anyone when they deemed it necessary. It also did not help their reputation when the majority of them were in their teens. It was a well-known fact that those who donned the red coats considered themselves above the "filth" that lived outside of the Mangaranon wall. Therefore, it would come to none as a surprise that Glenn hesitated to approach the gate. After all, if the guards were so callous to him with their expressions and lingering stares, how much worse would he be viewed in the eyes of nobility?

That single question struck fear into his heart and he resolved within himself to apologize to the baker when he returned without fulfilling his duties. He turned about, and he was blinded by bright red. He felt his eyes close instinctively as he collided into something, which seemed to push him outward. Glenn stumbled, but did not fall. When he opened his eyes he found that he was face to face with two stern looking patrolmen.

They had seen Glenn standing there, watching the guardhouse. The one that shoved Glenn rudely positioned himself so that they would collide. He even jutted out his chest to worsen Glenn's stumble. The guard frowned when he saw that Glenn had saved his balance, but strode forward with a mean-spiritedness that was not so easily deterred.

"What are ye doin' 'ere, ya git?" spoke the guardsman boorishly.

"I am here on deliveries, if it pleaseth thee." Glenn said with a nod of his head, his eyes never leaving the patrolman's.

The patrolman looked over at his friend, scoffed, and turned back to Glenn with a sneer, "No, it _pleaseth_ me not. Be off, an' never let me see ye grubby face 'round 'ere again!"

"Sir, I am here on behalf of my friend, the baker, to deliver food to families here who have ordered it. I beg thee: let me fulfill my duties and I shall be on my way."

The teenager laughed, his rotten teeth showing. "Listen at the way this one talks, Gibs! Does 'e think 'e be better than me?"

"Sir," Glenn answered, becoming more firm, "I have duties here, and I gave my word that I would perform them."

"Oh did ye now?"

The patrolman's hand moved toward his hilt in an evident display of power gone awry, and he clumsily unsheathed the rapier. He stammered as the leather held his sword, and it became evident as to why its removal had not been so smooth. The sword had been rusted by neglect, showing to any who knew a thing about armaments that this boy did not know how to care for his weapon.

The point of the rapier moved toward Glenn's chest. The guard stood there, his posture firm and full of confident impiety. Although this was not the thought that went through Glenn's mind at the moment, it would be the thought of anyone who was there to witness it: What a strange amalgamation of breed that thrived in this man! The worst of both worlds were made manifest in him. Although he was no better than the scum of Beggar Lane, he held the pride and haughtiness of a resident from Mangaranon Lane! Even worse, he fancied himself a soldier. To those who may think that I speak to harshly of this young man, forgot not that he aimed a weapon tauntingly toward the heart of a young boy carrying nothing but a basket of bread!

Glenn began stepping back as the patrolman advanced, the tip of the rapier poking through his clothes and into his skin. Although it did not penetrate his skin, it felt like the jab of a needle. The guard circled about and began to push him away from the guardhouse, a look of triumph on his face.

"Hold!"

The voice that rang out in the silence bore the tone of authority and power. In his flustered state Glenn did not notice the group of men who walked from the guardhouse and neither did the patrolmen. It wasn't until they heard the voice and the clicking of armor that all three turned to face the new arrivals.

You could have sworn that the young patrolmen had fallen under the admonishing eye of Almighty God by the way they stammered. The single patrolman sheathed his weapon just as clumsily as he had unsheathed it, his body becoming rigid as he saluted the man who stood before him. His friend followed suit, and Glenn noticed that beads of sweat trickled down their faces. It was then that Glenn took an eyeful of the knight that stood before him.

The knight wore armor that mirrored the world insomuch that it could have been made of silver. A billowing cape wrapped around his neck, blocking out the cold wind that blew through them all. His sword hung neatly in his sheath, its hilt glowing from a fresh cleaning. Although the patrolmen seemed impressive as far as their uniforms, the knight carried a presence that truly made Glenn feel beneath him. His was a towering figure, his short-cropped hair framing a clean-shaven and firm face. (Save for a moustache) He had dark eyes that looked into the soul of the two patrolmen, whose knees seemed unsteady all of a sudden.

"What is going on here?" The knight said with a deep, gruff voice.

"T-this boy tried to enter the royal estates, my lord." The patrolman said. Glenn noticed that the guard made a feeble attempt to formalize his speech.

Those dark, piercing eyes went to Glenn, who admittedly shrunk underneath them. However, the eyes of the knight softened when they found Glenn. For the briefest of moments there was a knowing smile on the knight's face. He turned back to the patrolmen, his smile vanishing before they had seen it. His eyes searched over them still, and they came to the hilt of the patrolman's sword. The knight slowly held out his palm, face-up.

"Your sword."

A look a fear came over the boy and he was at a loss for words. The knight did not roll his eyes or sigh, but made a swift motion that showed irritation. With a smooth move, he was able to remove the rusty rapier. The two patrolmen nearly cowered as the knight looked at each rust stain on the sword. A few minutes passed as he held the sword almost sorrowfully in his hands. Finally, one of the patrolmen ventured a type of excuse, which served to be a preamble to punishment.

The knight took the broad side of the rapier and whipped it against the boy, causing an ear-splitting yelp. Where the uniform was once unblemished, there were a few threads that came loose. It happened so quickly that Glenn and the other patrolman did not know what happened. It wasn't until the knight did it to the other guard that Glenn knew. They did not make another noise, but Glenn could see that the pain stayed with them as tears floated in the corners of their eyes. The knight looked at them both and said, "The sword should be the least of my worries, but it is not." He grabbed the sheath belonging to the young officer and slid it back into place, stepping back two paces to watch them both.

They stood at attention again due to the knight's bidding. The knight continued, "I shall tell ye what worries me. It is not the fact that thou hast poorly kept the very thing that preserves our nation or thine lives, but that thou hast used it to oppress a citizen of our fair kingdom. Tell me, truly, why hast thou pressed so sorely upon the boy?"

The two young men hung their heads, already knowing that the knight knew their answer.

The knight did sigh at this point as said, "It relieveth me that I had the foresight to remove this sorrowful lot from my internship. If I had the right to ask it of my fellow knights, thou wouldst have never obtained the rank of squire."

Those words hurt far more than any whipping they received. Their tears fell down their reddened cheeks this time, and their eyes could no longer look at the knight. Even as they gave Glenn a final look there was no malice there. Instead, there was only a sense of shame and embarrassment. Glenn nearly interjected on their behalf, his sympathy for the two bubbling over; but the knight who sent the young men away silenced him. As he watched their retreating forms, the knight turned to the young boy and suddenly adopted a very relaxed and kindly disposition. He smiled and his voice, although still gruff, spoke in a friendlier tone.

"Forgive me. It is not right that thou should witness what had occurred, nor is it right that thou hast suffered such ill treatment."

"I do beg thy leniency for speaking so frankly, good sir, but was it so necessary to speak such words?" Glenn looked away from the giant, his eyes occasionally glancing at his reaction.

The knight seemed even more impressed with Glenn. He nodded, "I may have spoken hard words to them, but know that 'the wicked shall always take the truth to be hard.'" The knight said, impressing Glenn as he quoted scripture. "Also, as Knight Captain, it is my duty to know what manner of men serve in my military. Although I respect the decisions of my fellow knights and those whom they employ, I reserve the right to discipline all those under my command and who serve under them."

"Knight Captain?" Glenn gasped, suddenly kneeling before the man. The Knight Captain had a humorous look on his face as well as the knights that walked with him, "Forgive me for saying such admonishing words, sir!"

The knight did not stoop to raise him, but ordered Glenn to do so, "There is no need for such formalities, young one!"

"I beg thy pardon." Glenn said, reaffirming his grip on the breadbasket.

"What have you there?" Asked the Knight Captain.

"The work of my master, which I am to deliver to a certain household within Mangaranon Lane."

The Knight Captain nodded, seeing that their time together was drawing to a close. "Aye, you undoubtedly do not know the ritual for such things. Every family here has a crier that reports to each gate when someone from without needs to enter. State thy name, the name of thy employer, and the nature of thy business and all shall be well."

"I thank thee, kind sir." Glenn said with a bow.

The Knight Captain laughed, "Say nothing more of it. However, I command thee one thing. I am most certain that those two will never approach you so cruelly again, but if they do, or if it be anyone else, I command that thou shalt tell the family you visit so that their criers may tell us."

"As the Lord my God liveth, I shall."

"That's a good lad." The Knight Captain said, walking by him, ruffling his hair in passing. The other knights made no such gesture, but eyed him warmly with pride, bowing their heads in a show of respect.

Glenn watched them with awe as they departed, and it is within this pause that I must inform the reader of Glenn's relationship (or understanding) concerning the knights that protected the Kingdom of Porre. It had always been the desire of Glenn to be a priest, having been taught by his parents that the Lord blesses those who served others. However, the life of a knight was different in the way it was portrayed within the streets. While knights lived in service, their service was far more recognized and sought after than those who took on the mantle to be shepherds. Glenn could tell how the children idolized these men by the games they played in the streets. They would take sticks, imagining them to be swords, and reenact the most famous battles, the children taking upon themselves the name of their favorite knight.

Glenn, with uncharacteristically fantastic luck, had met the knight whose role was the most sought after whenever the children chose a hero.

He approached the guardhouse and noticed that the men who stood at the gate seemed nervous. No doubt, they had seen the exchange that had taken place. He did not even need to speak, for the guards stepped aside immediately, pulling open gates that squeaked under the weight of its bars. Glenn, suddenly realizing that he was about to be emerged in an element foreign to his own, could not help but be nervous.

* * *

The beginning of the street was very calm and its traffic was slow. The occasional carriage would pass by to leave the private street or some gentleman passing by in silk robes would give Glenn a confused look before carrying on. Not wanting to draw attention to himself, Glenn looked down to avoid the gaze of the gentleman and noticed for the first time that the roads in Mangaranon Lane were different than any others in the city. The streets here were made of cobblestone to be sure, but were painstakingly lined with bricks. Also foreign to Glenn was the concept of sidewalks, which struck him as odd. It wouldn't be until a rainy day that he discovered the reason for differencing levels of road. Past the sidewalks were thin strips of lawn that did not belong to any house, but they held fertile green grass and they lined the street with neatly trimmed oak trees.

It was strange to Glenn, who never had the leisure or the pleasure of seemingly needless decoration.

The homes of Mangaranon Lane were the first things he noticed, for he could see them over the outer gate, but to see them unobstructed by a wall was almost daunting. The homes of this street held many forms. There were luxurious apartments, large mansions whose properties stretched for acres, duplexes, and even cozy little houses that still held impressive yards. As Glenn pressed onward, recalling the particular name of a residence, yet almost forgetting it as he admired the homes.

"You there!"

Glenn turned around, being face to face with a group of young girls his age. They were dressed in uniforms belonging to a prestigious school accessible only to those whose parents held a substantial income. He could feel himself blush, for the girls were very pretty and he almost felt as if he were being examined in the same manner that little girls examined bugs.

"Dost thou need something of me?" Glenn asked nervously, bowing politely.

"Why art thou so dirty?" asked one of the girls innocently.

Glenn was abashed and tried to stammer out a reply, but found himself mute.

"'Tis disgusting how filthy he is!" Another said when he did not answer, "Tell us, why dost thou not bathe?"

One girl stamped her foot and said, "Be not so ignorant! Do you not see that he is a beggar?"

"A beggar? Here? How is it that he hath entered this place?" Asked another girl.

"I hear that they cannot read. I hear that they are as animals, living in mud." Another girl said with a factual tone.

"That cannot be true!" piped in another, "Boy? Is that so? Thou canst read?"

He felt ashamed. The prospect of reading seemed available to only the rich, and such a marvelous thing it was that Glenn never expected to receive the chance. However, being confronted by such people that shared his age and who knew all these things was harrowing. In all those years he never felt ashamed of being poor, but this day, as he stood in front of those who had everything he did not, he knew what shame was. Before he knew it, he could feel his cheeks flush and he said, "I am searching for a family. I have deliveries here which I must bring without delay…"

"Why doth he avoid our questions? Perhaps he cannot speak our tongue fluently?" offered one of the girls, ignoring what he said.

"I can." Glenn said, becoming annoyed.

"Then," said another girl leaning forward, "canst thou read?"

Glenn looked to the ground, "I cannot."

His shame was deepened as they broke into riotous laughter. Words such as "pathetic" and "poor creature" sounded in his ears and he could feel tears welling up in his eyes. He did not want to suffer further abuse and began to leave them, but found himself being followed by the girls. He could feel their condescension and eyes burning into his back and wanted nothing more than to complete this delivery. Thankfully, after a few blocks they grew tired of pestering him and went their own way.

His resolve to leave this place was strengthening and he regained his bravery. He went up to the people in the streets, asking them to point out the dwellings of those he was appointed to visit. They would give him the same look that the guards and the gentleman gave him earlier before pointing him up the street. Finally, he completed his deliveries and found himself walking toward the gate.

He went home and collapsed on his bed of straw, overcome for the first time from his work.


	9. To Turn the Other Cheek

_**The Deformed Knight**_

_A small collection of stories containing the adventures of Glenn before his most epic journey._

_Chapter Seven; To Turn the Other Cheek…_

Something was set into motion the following day. Although this incident has no connection to Glenn as we see now, it is something that shall come into play many years down the road. This incident occurred in a place he had never been, and with people he had not met; yet the meeting affected him, the very world in which he lived, and everyone he knew.

It is past the gates of Mangaranon Lane and within the confines of the castle that the event took place. A man, who was made of flesh, blood, and bone as any other man, awoke with a yawn. He rubbed crust free from his eyes and was faced with a court of nobles, as he was every morning. Each man who stood within the chambers of the king was a governmental official, and they all had the honor of attending to the king every morning.

"The king and royal magistrate of Porre has awakened!" Announced a crier, dressed in extravagant robes.

The king put his feet to the floor, which were instantly fallen upon by men of royal lineage. The king's feet were cleaned so that they could be anointed with perfume and oil, which were then clothed. And so the morning ritual went on as usual, every person either clothing or praising the king through anointment of oil and perfume until he was prepared for the day. It was as it had been done for centuries, as according to customs derived from ancient ceremonies.

The ritual took an hour every morning, but at the end of it the king cut an impressive figure. He was a tall and as strong as his father and doctors planned for him to be. His face was chiseled, and his neck was broad. His body was knotted with thick muscle, despite the fact that he had never worked a day of brute labor in his life due to the sacredness of his person. His black beard, which was thinner on the sides of his face, became full at his moustache and chin. He looked about the room with piercing gray eyes and said with a voice that was becoming of a powerful man, "Call my counselor hither."

An older man came forward and kneeled, "Your counselor hears and obeys your call, oh Lord."

"Arise." Said the king. The counselor rose, but kept his head bowed as customs dictated while the king spoke. "What is the itinerary for the day?"

The counselor nodded and said, "The crop report for the northern territory arrives today. Also, a meeting commences at high noon concerning the colonies in the El Nido islands. But before that, there is a pressing matter. The economist and several members of your cabinet wish to meet with you, my Lord. They claim to have a matter that needs immediate attention."

The king's brow furrowed and everyone in the room instantly became apprehensive. He looked out a grand window and said, "Very well. This morning I shall meet with them. We shall meet in the central tower."

* * *

The men who requested the meeting had already taken their place in the eastern wing which they expected the king to choose, but they were sore afraid when a crier reached them and informed them otherwise. These men of high standing, when confronted by the king, had no choice but to sprint through the castle. They counted themselves lucky when they arrived before the king did, for it was law that a man be seated early so that he may acknowledge the king when he enters a meeting. The punishment for disobeying this rule was to be lashed five times, and no doubt the whip would tear their soft skin, which came from a life of privilege.

Therefore, they all tried their best not to pant as the king was announced. The king entered the room, two armed men standing in front of him and two men standing behind him. All members stood and saluted their king by beating a fist against their chests. The king nodded in acknowledgement and took his seat, inviting the rest to follow. They all looked at the king, but not directly into his eyes. Even if there were no rule against it, they would not want to, for the king was wroth.

"I question the ability of men who arrange a meeting so hastily…I question even more the fact that it seems as thou hast forced my hand by labeling your business as a 'pressing matter'."

"We beg for your lenience, oh great and noble king."

He bowed his head, his heavy crown glinting in the early morning light that came in through an open window. "The degree of my leniency depends on the urgency of thy report…Make it worth my while, for I am a busy man and my time is precious, not to mention the time of those who I am supposed to be meeting at this moment."

"I concur, your majesty."

"Now, for what reason hast thou showed such great disrespect to me and to those who were considerate enough to schedule a meeting?"

The economist handed papers to an attendant, who laid them before the king. The king looked over the papers and frowned. What they showed him were dwindling numbers and reports from the borders. The king looked up from the papers and glanced at the men across the table. "What is the meaning of this? Have I not told every member of the board to consult with me if there were any severe problems?"

"The decline in our economy has happened in this season alone." The economist said with alarm. The king's eyes widened. "While our territory expands, our financial gains slip through our fingers."

"All product has decreased over the season," began another member of the meeting. "Those are the numbers despite the great condition of the weather this year _and_ our new source of income from the El Nido islands. As a result, our export with other nations has decreased while our import remains high. Our currency has decreased in value, and the populace has been complaining about our tax increases which were brought about by the aforementioned problems."

"And I suspect that these reports from the borders have something to do with our current troubles?" suggested the king.

"Aye," began another. "The latest census shows that the working force is dwindling. Our camps have continually sent reports saying that many of our citizens are immigrating north toward Guardia Kingdom."

"I see." The king said with a glare in his eye. "And what is the condition of Guardia this quarter?"

The economist shrunk as if he wanted nothing more than to hide the answer, "They thrive, my Lord."

The king sighed irritably, "Then I do not see why such 'learnt' men need my guidance when they knowest these things."

"It is not only that, good master…we wish to know the degree of your involvement. Surely, this is no reason to go to war, but if this continues our economy shall suffer a heavy depression."

The king nodded and then looked toward one of his most trusted guards. "Bring the Captain here, immediately."

Within moments, the Captain –who was the very captain that met Glenn- walked into the counsel room and bowed respectfully to the king and then the men who were there. The situations concerning the declining economy and immigration were repeated at the King's request. At the end of the explanation the King turned to face the Captain and asked, "What is the current condition of our troops? Can we spare any more for movement toward the north?"

The Captain nodded, smiling as he saw which direction the King's questions were going. "Aye, my liege. We may spare a few."

"With respect, my Lord, what if Guardia mistakes this as offensive posturing?" One of the counselors asked.

"To hell with the Guardians," the King said almost under his breath, "they extend an olive branch yet they lure away our citizens with their bastardized government."

The Knight Captain glowed at this comment, agreeing fully, for the Knight Captain was of very conservative mind. When I say "conservative" in this context, I mean that he was a traditionalist. While the history of the Kingdom started as a commune, it was only under the rule of a king that it thrived. The Knight Captain, having been taught by his father who was deemed by many to be a great man, grew to love the monarchy and the traditions it embraced as if it were a surrogate father. While others would view Porre as an oppressive society, the Knight Captain saw it as a fading light in a dark word where chaos and indifference reigned. He would hear stories of Guardia and be enraged. He heard about how its people would openly insult their majesty in its streets, how men of standing would dishonor their families and marry outside of their class, and how its criminals would escape punishment by receiving a slap on the wrist in comparison to their own laws.

In short, the Knight Captain knew that Porre lacked equality and leniency. However, he believed the strength of a nation relied on honor, respect, and authoritarian values which he enforced. Those, at least, were the characteristics that Porre held above Guardia. "One day, their own people shall turn on their government, my liege. They are like dogs who turn upon the master that feeds them, and they do so under the slightest rebuke." The Knight Captain announced with a bow.

"Aye." The King said with a nod of his head. "There is no need to go to war, save they keep their distance and do not demand a removal of troops from the borders. If they do, then we shall surely know that they mean to lure away our numbers and weaken us until we are ripe for destruction. For now, we shall watch the border and make sure our citizens do not leave. I will leave it to my counselor to make the formal announcement to the kingdom."

"What great wisdom! Oh, how I thank God Almighty for the crown and for her ancestors and descendants!" cried the counselors and the economist.

"My heart is glad. Very well," The King said, flashing a rare smile, "that shall be all. Keep me informed, and do make an appointment in the future."

* * *

While the very gears of history began to turn, Glenn was none the wiser. Why should he be? He was merely a young peasant who knew nothing of the governments that pressed sorely against each other. However, he began to learn slowly of the world and its stimuli as all people do. The cause for his desire to learn was that his mind became troubled over the events of a prior day; specifically he thought of his meandering into Mangaranon Lane.

Once again, Glenn sat in front of the priest. He leaned on the table as he did last time, fully attentive as he received advice from a man that was many years his senior. "But I say unto you, love thy enemies. Bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you and persecute you, that ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven: for he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust. For if ye love them that love you, what reward have ye? Do not even the vain and prideful greet those who love them in a like manner? And if ye salute your brethren only, what do ye more than those who are wicked? Be ye therefore perfect, even as your father which is in heaven is perfect."

"Priest, what is the meaning of the verse thou hast shared?"

"Oh," the priest began nonchalantly, closing his scriptures with a heavy thud sounding from its pages, "there are many ways to interpret words, Glenn. What sayest thou?"

"It seems to me that the verse commands us to love those who abuse us, for that is what our father would do."

"That is one way to look at it. I once met a man in my travels. He lived to the Far East, where even their very ways of thinking are different than our own. He told me that we may read one verse only to return to it years later to receive a different meaning…At first, I disagreed with him and said that the law had literally and figuratively been carved in stone…I was right, but at the same time I was wrong."

Glenn laughed, "Thou speakest nonsense, dear priest."

The priest laughed, "And those were my words as well, until one day the spirit of his message sank into my soul."

"And what message is that?"

"It is this: the law is carved in stone, but our perception is not. We are only human, Glenn. We make flawed judgments. We solidify our minds, and we become unwilling to listen to the thoughts and wisdom of others. It wasn't until I reread the scriptures that I understood what he meant. We must continue to study; for our minds are not always open and they do not fully comprehend that the simple truths before us are so much more. Whenever I read anything now, the same verses always seem different only because I perceive them differently. I read the scriptures continuously not only to familiarize myself with them; I also read the scriptures because the Lord opens the sealed chambers of my thoughts, opening my eyes to deeper meaning whenever I am ready for them."

"I understand not, priest." Glenn said simply, his confusion showing in his face.

"You shall understand one day, for my words do not apply to scriptures only. They apply to any experience, weather it be through the words of a book, through the words you hear, and even through the actions of others. Surely thou had an experience where you mistook the meaning of the words of another only to realize your folly in hindsight?"

Glenn smiled sheepishly, "Aye. I have."

The priest smiled, "Good. Here is another example: Thou understood the scripture to mean that we should love our enemies unconditionally. That is true. However, I understood the meaning as this: a wicked man only loves those like himself, but a good man loves all. That is true as well."

The priest rose from his seat and went to the window. He looked toward the poorer section of the city and said, "Men who are wealthy do indeed look down upon the poor and in that way they do sin, Glenn. That is the sad way of the world. But dost thou suppose that a man must have money to be wicked? Surely, there has been many times where anger and loathing have seeped into the hearts of the poor."

"Aye." Glenn admitted. He could picture the many nights where those who lived in Beggar Lane spoke ill of people they had never met.

"That is the sin of the poor." The priest said, looking out his window, "They call the rich sinners, not realizing that jealousy itself is a sin. It sorroweth me to see that such a great divide has come over this fair kingdom in my many years of serving the church. Glenn, they had let apathy overcome their lives. Wilt thou allow the cruel actions of a few do the same to thee?"

"I do not wish to hate anyone." Glenn said simply.

"Then change thy perception. Do not see their taunting as oppressions like those that hold jealousy in their hearts. Rather, see their taunting as a test from the world to prove to God that under any circumstances that thou can love thy brethren. See it as an opportunity to enlighten the world. 'Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your father which is in heaven.'"

"But is that the opposite of what thou hast told me before? What of my approach concerning Fisk? Had I sinned then?" Glenn asked, bewildered.

"Perhaps, but perhaps not. That was different." The priest answered, "He inflicted harm upon thee, whereas these people know thee not and are ignorant to thy kindness. Thou must always remember that the scriptures do not always had a direct answer for those who read and hear them. That is why we carry the spirit with us, and if thou canst understand its promptings, then thou hast thy conscience. And if that fails you then, thou still have a bright mind. We have received many instruments to guide us Glenn; often times, thou may need to use more than one. And if thy own devices fail thee, then take my word although it shall not be with thee always. Follow the advice I have given thee and show love unto thy brethren." The priest finished that with a smile.

"And how may I do that?" Glenn asked, perplexed at the meaning.

"It is simple," the priest said. He lightly tapped Glenn's face with his palm and said with a smile, "Turn the other cheek…"

* * *

The days passed without incident and the words of the priest stayed in his mind. Glenn reflected on them again and again, almost feeling annoyed with the priest for listing so many complicated concepts to grasp. He found that whenever he met with the priest, he told him less and less what to do and gave him open-ended suggestions. However, Glenn chose to focus on caring for others and did so by working harder than he usually did. However, all that seemed to do was make him even more aggravated whenever a customer happened to be inconsiderate.

"Glenn," the baker said one day, "I know that thy last experience with Mangaranon Lane was a sad affair…"

Glenn looked down at the floor and said softly, "Are there deliveries to be made? Art thou needed here?"

The baker seemed apologetic, "There is no other choice. Canst thou shoulder the task?"

"I will try." Glenn said, apprehension building up in the base of his throat.

He walked the same direction he did the last time he went. He even saw the same guards that hassled him. They did not glare nor make sport of him, but walked by as if they had not seen him. He finally reached the front gate, announced his business in Mangaranon Lane, and entered the streets. This day was busier than the last time he was here, and it was more intimidating. He could already feel the stares of wealthy citizens probing his spine and tried his best to ignore it. He remembered the words of the priest and tried his best to smile, but found it to feel very fake and unconvincing.

He talked to the various people who wandered the streets and thanked them courteously for their help as he made his deliveries. His basket felt lighter as he grew closer and closer to finishing the day without incident, but as fate would have it there was a hurdle. His blood ran chill as he saw the very same group of girls that harassed him the day before. They wore their uniform dresses and held books to their chests. Evidently, they had finished their education for the day and spent the afternoon walking in the street. Glenn tried to change direction before he was noticed, but he was too late. He could see from their giggling, wide-eyes, and pointing fingers that he had been spotted. He hung his head low and braced himself for the taunting that would follow as they trotted toward him.

"You have returned? Why is it that thou continuously return here?"

"Why doth thou speak naught to us? Are there times when thou art mute?"

"Hast thou bathed since we have seen thee last?"

It was then that Glenn realized something. Were they truly insulting him, or were they simply asking questions? The words the priest uttered about perception become slightly clearer at that thought. He turned around and said, "I work for a baker. I am to deliver goods to certain families. That is why I am here."

The girls were almost immediately silenced by the simple answer. They looked at each other and then back at Glenn, "Why do you work? Surely thou must have a servant?"

"Nay," Glenn said with a shake of his head, "indeed, I am a servant to the baker in certain terms."

"How lowly!" scoffed one of the girls.

The exclamation hurt Glenn to the core, but his pain was immediately assuaged as one of the girls said, "Speak not so boorishly!"

"Why not? My father told me that those who serve others are…"

And so the girls spoke for a little while, all making comments about those who shared Glenn's social status. During the course of that conversation, there were many times that Glenn felt the sting of indignation, yet he continually reminded himself that it was a test. However, there were moments where one girl in particular made a stand for his case. Finally, the time for standing idle became too lengthy and Glenn gave a courteous bow while saying, "If it pleaseth thee, I must be on my way. I must find a certain household, and I know not where to find it."

"Learn to read, then." Said the most offensive of the young girls. That earned a fit of giggles from the group, save for one who seemed uncomfortable. They began to walk away, while that same girl did not move. The other members of the group noticed and turned to her, "Eliza, why dost thou hesitate?"

"I shall be with ye shortly." She answered.

The girls shrugged and went on their way, laughing and giggling about something else that occupied their interests.

"What is the family you are looking for?" asked the girl suddenly.

"Pardon?" Glenn asked, almost amazed that the girl addressed him politely.

"The family? Which family must thou visit?"

Glenn gave her the name and she pointed down the street. "See the fountain in the distance? To thy right, and two houses down thou shall find them."

Glenn smiled, "I thank thee for thy help, and hope that I may repay thy kindness in the future."

The girl said nothing, but blushed at the compliment and curtsied while Glenn bowed.

That night, Glenn knelt in prayer, offering thanks before he slept. The first day of experimenting on the new idea proved successful, but he prayed for the strength to control his anger and indignation. He felt shame and asked forgiveness for being so quick to judge. He asked that his ability to discern be increased and then he asked for blessings and the well-being of all those who helped him that day…

And upon a second thought, he prayed for those that abused him. He slept well that night.

* * *

Glenn watched in awe as the gardener showed his skill. He held a sword that was different than any other he had ever seen before. The sword was double edged and upon sight it was three feet. It was not a wide blade like he had seen the knights use, and the blade seemed very light from how his master handled it. A long tassel hung from the hilt of the sword, and its purpose was lost on Glenn. The gardener did not overly-exert himself either; he kept his movements slow and deliberate, yet his face still rained with sweat.

"Why dost thou move so slowly?" Glenn asked.

"Underneath the skin," the gardener began, huffing as he spoke, "there are many muscles. Yes, there are those who work out a single portion of their arm and grow large, yet if thou were to feel out his movements you would see what had been neglected. In a manner of speaking, the rock may have a crack. 'Tis the same ideology behind our practice. Although this may seem like a dance, we strengthen the body in its entirety and we teach our muscles to remember the movement, so that it may be done without thought. We seek to eliminate the cracks and weaknesses within us, and to do so requires slow and diligent study, is that not so?"

Glenn nearly sighed in annoyance but caught himself; "Thy words are as the words of the priest…they make no sense to me."

"And what has the priest said to thee?"

It was then that Glenn asked for the opportunity to explain. Avery nodded, sheathing his sword, and invited Glenn with a tip of his head toward his home. They entered, had a seat, and drank apple cider while Glenn retold the events that occurred at Mangaranon Lane. Avery listened, his heart feeling heavy as he heard of Glenn's hardships. Glenn told Avary the scripture that was shared by the priest, and how he followed through with its meaning despite his confusion.

"And what confuses thee on such a simple thing?"

"Simple?" Glenn said almost indignantly.

Avary laughed, "Please do not take offense. I only wish to know what confuses thee."

Glenn started slowly, trying to find the right words to express his feelings, "When I had my problems with Fisk, I thought that violence only begets violence. I thought if I stayed silent long enough I would bring him to question his cruelty." Avary nodded in understanding and Glenn continued, "But then the priest told me a story wherein men fought for their lives, for those who oppressed them did so without guilt. I fought against him, but it only brought more pain after all the joy I felt. And now, the priest tells me to turn my cheek and fight naught."

Avary nodded and said, "And thou wisheth to know why the priest has changed his mind so?"

"Aye." Glenn said with a nod.

"In all truth, he changed not a thing. It is only in his years of knowledge that he knew his own course of action. You cannot rely on the words of others always, Glenn. There must come a time where you must trust your own judgment."

"But how shall I know what is right?" Glenn said, almost pleadingly.

Avary smiled and said, "Our world is very blessed, for in other worlds there are many who will not hear the words of another. They will refute new knowledge in fear that it shall conflict with their own. Although this is not a teaching that you may hear from the proselytes in the streets, this is a code of ethics taught to knights by the priests who bless them before they are sent into service so that they may overcome the sorrows and evils of war. The code is known as 'the eight paths' and they teach a man to approach any problem with clarity. I shall teach these to thee, but only gradually."

"If that is thy wish, I will be patient." Glenn said, bowing his head in a show of respect.

"Good," Avary smiled, "that is very good. As a reward, here is your first lesson- 'right view'."

"Pardon?" Glenn titled his head.

"'Right view' is the first path that you shall discover. In essence, it means to understand or to have the correct perspective. Surely, you have experienced this first hand with that young girl. You suddenly realized that she may not have been as cruel as you first imagined. If you learn to look at the actions of others through their thoughts and their views, you will be slower to anger and one step closer to choosing an appropriate action."

Glenn sighed, "I think I comprehend thy words, but…"

Avary raised a hand, "You do not need to understand them in their entirety…I am thy senior, yet I still find new relevance for 'the paths' as my understanding changes. Meditate on these words as well as the words of the priest…pray if you need to. Just have faith that the answers will come."

Glenn nodded.

"Now, take this."

Avary handed Glenn a sheath that held a sword. Glenn removed the sword and looked at its quality. To his eyes it was a magnificent sight, but to the eyes of a trained soldier and blacksmith it was almost worthless. The metal quality was cheap, the amount of times the metal had been folded could be counted on your hands, and the finish was dotted with burrs and bumps. The sword was evidently made for the new and practicing swordsman, seeing that it was made to be broken and suffer abuse. However, Avary did not want to cheapen the moment as Glenn held it lovingly in his hands. "It is yours." Avary said with a grin.

"Speakest thou truly?" Glenn said with nigh unrestrainable joy.

"Yes. Come when thou may, for it is time to instruct thee in the art of the sword." Avary raised a pointed finger and held a serious look on his face as he quickly added, "That does not mean that the training of thy body will be neglected. This will mean that thou will work twice as hard to meet my expectations. Dost thou accept, and art thou willing to put forth the effort?"

"Yes!" Glenn exclaimed.

"Then I shall see thee when time favors it."

They both bowed toward each other, Glenn bending the lower of the two, and they left each other's company.

_Author's notes: I should have mentioned this earlier, and I will probably put it in my profile later, but this story is canon with "Sands of Time". My other story, "The Wasteland" is also canon, but it is not finished. I plan to write a brief prelude for every character, so that means "A Love Beyond Reality" is NOT canon. I just wrote it for practice, or at least to try something new. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. I already have the next one finished, but I'm going to wait a little while. I think people accidentally skip ahead and think I make BIG jumps in plots when I put up two chapters at once._


	10. The Path of Intention

_**The Deformed Knight**_

_A small collection of stories containing the adventures of Glenn before his most epic journey._

_Chapter Eight; The Path of Intention…_

"Hear ye! Hear ye!"

A man dressed in fancy colors stood on a table that he commanded a merchant to clear. The crowded marketplace's noisy din slowly turned to hushed whispers as the man looked over them with half-closed eyes. A look of haughtiness was on his face as he addressed the shabby commoners, noting that some of them eyed him with disgust and annoyance. He felt a brief moment of indignation, but resolved within himself not to care. After all, he was an emissary to the king and though him the king's voice was heard. What did the peasants' unwarranted disgust matter to him?

"His Royal Majesty has declared the northern borders to be closed!"

There was a soft murmuring going through the crowd, and some people faced each other with wide-eyes. The crier went on, "As of this day, any person attempting to leave the nation of Porre without the proper clearance shall be jailed, fined, and brought before a tribunal to plead on his or her behalf." On this note, the crier puffed out his chest and said more authoratively, "Please note that repeating this crime may be viewed as treason, for which the punishment is death." That earned a sharper draw of breath from the crowd and they burst into conversation. The conversation wasn't so much on the freedom being taken from them, but it rested solely upon the question of why the borders were being closed. Thus started the rumors of war that brought on the inevitable confrontation between Porre and Guardia.

* * *

"What is the meaning of this?" Glenn asked, blushing. 

His mentor prodded him in certain places. It was embarrassing to Glenn, seeing that they stood in the garden where all saw him being examined by his master. Avary did not look up at him; he simply said, "I am looking for cracks. It appears I have found one." With that, the master pressed precisely upon the spot with no more weight than a feather. However, to Glenn, it felt as if it were a needle followed by a hammer. He fell to the ground with a whelp, tears brimming near his eyes.

"Art thou mad?" Glenn yelled, rubbing the sore spot on his calf.

"Hast thou ever suffered any injury in that spot?" Avary asked calmly.

"What sort of foolery is this? Thou strikest me with malice and then ask-"

Avary sighed while Glenn spoke and put a hand over his injury. Glenn was silenced and felt heat come over his leg. The pain quickly subsided. Glenn looked up at his master with awe and said, "What is that that thou hast done?"

"That is a benefit of training, which shall one day come upon thee. Now, answer me."

"It happened when I was young. A few of my closet friends played in an abandoned hut that had fallen apart. As we played, I fell backwards upon a nail and it injured me greatly. The wound became infected, but a proselyte blessed it and suggested a physician. He suggested a treatment to my parents. With herbs my mother found in the forest, we bound my leg and anointed it daily with boiled water mixed with those same herbs."

"Ah," Avary said with a smile, "it is wise of thy parents, but deep inside there is a cut that never healed and that is what ails thee now. I should have searched thee at the start, but now we may work on healing thy scar…or thy crack, if you will."

"But I see no crack…not even a scar. The herbs were quite effective." Glenn said, smiling wryly.

"Aye, 'tis no crack on the surface. But there are two kinds of cracks, Glenn. Those _without_, and those _within_. Remember that." To further express his point, Avary showed him the slight touch he used on Glenn and he was amazed by how much pain came from the wound. It was then that he remembered that on some nights he would awake from his slumber, suffering from what he thought to be a cramp in his leg.

"And thou sayest it may be fixed?" Glenn asked, sounding hopeful.

"With the proper training and time, yes, but it shall be strenuous. Thy body has mended the wound in the quickest way possible, yet without proper attention the healing remains flawed. The muscle has been severed and we must rebuild it."

"How shall it be done?" Glenn said, massaging his calf.

"We have done the exercise before, and I suppose it must have helped in some slight manner, but for the healing to be effective thou must focus solely on that exercise. But, for now, I must search for other flaws."

* * *

Deliveries had come again and Glenn found himself in Mangaranon Lane. It was becoming a ritual for the girls to approach him to ask him demeaning questions. However, the girl that stood up for him before stayed toward the rear and said almost nothing. Instead, she would occasionally look at Glenn and blush deeply if he caught her watching him. 

The topic that day went from why he wore dirty rags (which made him wonder what they would say about his clothes he wore outside of work) to what people in his station did for fun or to pass the time, since the girls believed that poor citizens had nothing better to do than sweep their streets. The girls spoke in snooty fashion about the various instruments they played, the works of literature they read, and the horses they rode. Glenn told them about how he and his friends would sometimes wrestle in the mud (which earned shrieks, scoffs, and giggles from the group) and how they would play a game of seek until the sun went down.

One of the girls, who led the group and seemed the most disdainful of them all, said, "That is why thou remainest in poverty. Thy days are squandered in children's play. Our means of recreation better ourselves. Canst thou say the same?"

"In all honesty," Glenn began, trying to sound polite in the face of ignorance, "thy means of recreation sounds of forced study. I do not see how that could be entertaining, being forced to sit in a spot for hours on end."

"People of thy caliber will never understand." Huffed the girl in reply; spinning an umbrella she used for shade.

That remark irked Glenn. Suddenly, he said heatedly and without thinking, "I practice a style of fighting that the knights of our kingdom use. Is that a reliable way to spend my time?"

The girls looked at each other, impressed, yet still trying to hide it by wearing masks of boredom. "Oh?" said the leader with an air of indifference, "Canst thou prove it to us?"

Glenn smiled as if he had been given a chance to disprove them and bade them to give him space. They obeyed, and he flexed his arms. He breathed deeply and commenced the exercise he performed everyday with fast movement. He even surprised himself with how quick he moved. He almost felt as if he were spinning like a top, the dust of the ground following the wake of his shoes. He grunted from the effort as he shot his fists out, and his face trickled with sweat. Finally, he finished the exercise with an over-embellished flip that drew a gasp of surprise from the few that could not hide their amusement.

Glenn looked toward them and saw that a few passer bys clapped in appreciation before moving on. Eliza, the girl whom helped Glenn before, found herself smiling and clapping as well. She was silenced as an older girl gave her an admonishing look. Glenn looked into the face of their leader and she smirked tauntingly, "Is that what you believe to be a means of improving thyself? 'Tis only a dance!"

"A dance?" Glenn nearly shouted, aggravated.

The girl continued, saying, "Yea, thou hast depressed me with thy lies. Thou claimest to fight as the knights do, yet I have seen that dance performed many times in concert halls. It is quite silly, really, seeing that it is only used to entertain; it is too fast and frantic for dancing with others."

"You lie." Glenn said, his eyes growing narrow.

"You dare to call me a liar?" The girl began, her face turning into a pout. She looked about herself and saw a guard in the distance.

"There is no need to call the guard, is there?" Eliza suddenly piped up, seeing her intent.

The girls turned to look at her and their faces were dark and threatening. Eliza stammered and said to the leader, "Alicia, is it so necessary to waste our time and effort on this commoner? Surely, it would be embarrassing for thy father to know that we even speak to him."

Glenn looked toward Eliza, who lowered her eyes and did not return his gaze. Alicia, the snooty girl, put a finger to her chin preponderously; "I suppose thou'rt in the right on this. Very well. Farewell to thee, pretender. Perhaps thou may regale us with another dance when we see thee next."

Glenn felt his cheeks flush in anger. His fists clenched involuntarily as the group walked away.

* * *

Birds chirped all around, the spring blossoms of nearby trees filling the air with their scent. It was the following day and Glenn found himself in the serenity of the garden, yet his mind was as angry as a tempest tossed sea. His master noticed by the evasiveness and unintended curtness of his answers. However, instead of trying to understand the problem, it was annoying to the master who had a hard day. Therefore, he decided it would be a good time to strengthen the weak spots he found on Glenn. 

The exercise was unexpectedly grueling. The master would pose in a position for an example, which favored the leg on which Glenn was injured. The form, which the master called "the golden claw", required a very steady balance. He explained the maneuver, saying that some moves were derived from animals and their patterns of attack and defense. The stance of the rooster, for example, will sometimes call for balance on one leg to swipe a blow at the opponent's foot with the other, causing the opponent's knee to break or to halt its advance. While the whole explanation sounded ridiculous to Glenn, his master ordered him to do as he was told.

Glenn stood on his right leg, his left knee raised into the air and almost at his chest. The tenseness of his muscles was nothing at first, but then the master came and corrected his posture by tucking in his tailbone and straightening his back. He also took his left arm and placed the elbow on the left knee that stood nearly motionless in the air. He could feel the muscles crunch around the sore spot and it felt as if his leg would give out at any moment. "Now," Avary said, "push your hips outward so that your center stays within the line of posture, yet it pushes out your leg for the kick."

Glenn grunted with effort and found himself sweating already.

"That is good." Avary said with a firm nod. He began to walk away.

"And where goest thou?" Glenn called out, both of his feet falling on the ground.

Avary turned about and said sharply, "Raise thy leg! Continue the exercise until I command thee to stop!"

"But thou art leaving!" Glenn protested.

"I said," Avary addressed Glenn, his voice becoming dangerously low, "'continue the exercise.'"

Glenn did as he was told and the master seemed to hide a grin of satisfaction. Glenn made a face once the master turned his back and focused on moving the pain elsewhere with his mind. He would stumble, and each time he did it would take more effort to move back into position. Every once in a while, Avary would come out from his hut and reposition Glenn, which made Glenn growl in frustration once his master left him behind. His back was becoming soaked in sweat now; a sweat that itched and stung at his entire body. His foot that connected to the ground was sore, yet it felt like iron, or at least as heavy as iron. He could feel the blood pulse through his raised foot and it was somehow pleasing, yet his upper leg screamed for rest.

Finally, Avary came out of his home just as Glenn lost his balance.

Avary frowned as the raised foot came down to catch balance and he looked at Glenn reprovingly. He went up to Glenn, and forcefully moved him back into position, saying that his muscle would never heal if he failed to do the exercise correctly. That earned a complaint from Glenn, which did not move the heart of Avary. Instead, he gave him a sharp stare and said, "It has only been an hour. If you cannot do this simple task then perhaps thou are not ready to learn the sword."

"Canst thou do it?" Glenn shot back angrily, drawing a surprised look from Avary. "Thou doth boast that this is a simple endeavor, and I am sick of it! Prove to me that thou can do this!"

Avary held his hands behind his back, "It is I who am the teacher. Thou art the student. Thou may only answer to me, not I to thee. Now, back to your stance."

"It is nonsense!" Glenn shouted, clenching his fists. "How ridiculous it is; to believe that doing such an exercise will do anything except try my patience!"

"Watch thy tones, student. Thou knowest that I have proved myself time and time again." It was then that there was a sudden comprehension and Avary was moved into silence. "Why dost thou bicker with me so? Only yesterday thou hast agreed to this regimen. What has changed since then?"

"What business is it of thee?" Glenn said with uncharacteristic rudeness.

Avary bit his tongue for a moment and invited Glenn to have a seat. Glenn reluctantly obeyed, taking the furthest spot on the bench from Avary. There was a moment of silence before Avary said in a quiet tone, "I suppose I have done some wrong." Glenn had the look of validation and victory on his face at his master's admission, but it was robbed as Avary said, "But thy guilt in this matter is stronger."

"What manner of back handed apology is this? Thou forced me to do that exercise by means of thy spite!"

"It was by means of _thy spite_ that I was driven to anger, and thus acted so harshly!" Avary said, his voice raising.

"I was not angry!" Glenn said childishly, knowing that he was feigning his own surprise.

"Ha! Thou hast been curt in thy manners ever since thou hast come into my garden. Do not deny it."

At that, and at realizing he feigned surprise, Glenn was slower and more hesitant to speak. "Even so, that did not excuse thy abuses."

"Granted. My intentions were wrong, and I admit that." Avary offered coaxingly. "However, our training will not continue unless thou tell me the source of thy troubles, for a student whose mind is full of doubt has little room for anything else. Doth thou question the dependability of what I have taught thee?"

Glenn sighed in deeply and said begrudgingly, "No."

"Then why dost thou question what I teach unto thee?"

After a few more refusals and some more gentle reassurances, Glenn spoke. "It was that same girl that treated me so foully. She claimed that my means of recreation or what I do in my spare time is the reason why I am so unlearnt. I use- I used the things that thou hast taught me, hoping that I could show her that I could do things that she could not do."

"You used my teachings to settle a squabble and to embarrass another?" Avary said with some dissonance in his voice.

"It was not settled," Glenn said with glowing shame. "she mocked what I learned and said that it was nothing more than a dance."

Avary sighed, "Thou hast made an error in judgment and have made an incorrect choice. However, to aid thee and so that thou may not bring shame upon what I teach thee, I shall explain unto thee the second path. –The right intent."

Avary rested his leg on the bench and began to speak. "There was a man who served in the army. He was a very promising soldier, full of strength and ability. However, as he served, his hatred for those he fought against consumed him. He became bloodthirsty. Now, thou may put forward the notion that soldiers must be bloodthirsty, but that is far from the truth. There is a code of conduct, that a man must not make killing his sole reason for fighting within the army. In days of old, when the title of knight was a nigh holy position, they would often be interviewed by priests and superiors; they were asked why they served. There were many that said they fought for their country, many which fought for their families, and even for their lands. However, a man whose sole reason was to slay the enemy was immediately discharged, and that had been the case ever since that single knight."

"Why is that?" Glenn asked.

"A man who fought for his family only killed as many as he needed to protect his family. A man who fought for his land would only kill whom he needed to kill or whomever his officer commanded him to kill. Much like the story that the priest shared with thee, those who fought not to feel blood between their fingers, but fought for their lives and freedom joyfully, did not enjoy taking those rights from others. However, a man who lusted after murder did not kill for the sake of those around him or for his country, but rather for his own selfish agendas. This soldier, who slaughtered women and children, had no allegiances and thus did many foolish things. He had done things that forever tainted the title of knight, but even then he was not released from service. It wasn't until he saw a passerby in the dark dressed as a civilian that he sentenced himself to an eternity of shame. He fell upon the civilian, killed him, and brought his head before the camp and boasted of his accomplishment. However, one of the men identified the head as one of their own, whose head belonged to a man that worked in the shadows as a spy. The camp was wroth and beat the knight mercilessly. The knight was imprisoned, but when the army suffered heavy casualties from a surprise attack, which could have been avoided had the spy delivered his message, the knight was tortured to death so that he could suffer the pain his wrongful intentions put upon others."

"How grim!" Glenn remarked. "Is that story true?"

"'Tis a century or two old when we followed the ancient law, but it is. And to this day his story is used as an explanation of the code."

"So for what purpose hast thou told me this story?" Glenn asked.

"I merely wished to mirror the man's actions to thy own, for thy actions were not to used to better those around thee or to even answer a question, but to fulfill thy own selfish desires. Thy actions were used to prove the woman wrong, only to elevate thyself. Hast thou done it for the right reason, thou would not have been so wroth when she had scorned thee. And hast thou not been so wroth, I would not have been angered through the grudges that though hast brought with thee."

Although Avary did not mean to align Glenn with such a charlatan, it still came across that way. "Is it so wrong to defend thyself?" Glenn said as a means to assuage his pain.

Avary said very strongly, "YES! If it is to defend thy pride, yes! If it is to only prove others wrong, yes! A knight must think only of others to be a worthy knight. When a knight begins to think upon his own desires, he is no longer serving the crown; he serves only himself."

"But I fought those young men at thy discretion!" Glenn protested.

"…after thou hast given them considerable warning, and only to defend that which rightfully belonged to thee. To have the right intent is to have good thoughts, good resolve, and good aspiration. I remember how hard thou hast tried to find a peaceful solution with those ruffians who so wrongfully robbed thee. It was after a great struggle of spirit and prayer that thou arrived at that conclusion. That is why I knew that thou would be a great student, for many of the eight paths thou hast unknowingly followed."

Avary breathed in deeply as if he didn't want to speak these following words. "My intention was wrong in forcing thee to do the exercise, for I was angry and I did not wish for thy progression at the moment. I only wished to sate my own anger by abusing the trust that thou hast given me. My wrong intention only prolonged the anger that grew within us. Thy leg grew quickly tired, not for the fact that the form is difficult, but because thou saw the exercise as a punishment and not a pursuit of mastery. Likewise, the girl saw the intent of thy actions and did not relinquish her pride out of crossness, just as thou has refused to admit to thy anger." Avary smiled and said, "And this, my young pupil, is the importance of intent: We must know what we are doing and why we are doing it, for if we know not those things we have no direction. If we have no direction we become lost; when we are lost and seek the right path, time is wasted as well as progress. Doth thou understand?"

Glenn smiled slowly, "Aye. I understand, master."

"Good." Avary said with a grin. He patted Glenn on the head as he walked toward the center of the garden. "Now join me, and we shall do the exercise for the other leg."

"Surely thou doth jest." Glenn said, gawking.

"Of course not. How unfitting would it be if thou strengthened one side of the body and neglected the other?"

Glenn groaned, but took his place next to Avary and allowed him to readjust his form. The posture hurt, but not as badly as before.

"Tomorrow we shall begin training with the sword, but only after practicing with our hands."

"Yes, master." Glenn answered, focusing intently on his balance.

_Author's note: I just wanted to say that I know these last few chapters seem preachy. Sorry about that. This is just a progression that seemed natural to me in terms of the challenges that are coming up next. All of these lessons are a build-up to when Glenn meets Cyrus and choices he makes later on. Hope you guys don't mind. Anyway, I got the next chapter in my head, I just gotta put it to paper...er...microsoft word anyway. Hope you all enjoyed it._

_Oh yeah...questions need to be answered...This might contain some spoilers, so if you don't wish to have anything revealed try to look away. First, for Kit Thespian: when I wrote about the sidewalks and stuff I did have sewers in mind. Not the big huge sewers like in ye olde England, but that sounds like an intriguing idea for a chapter. Thanks:) Hope you don't mind if I take that idea and mess with it. Yes, Glenn is going to learn how to read and this part is the spoiler...he will eventually be spotted by Cyrus's family and will recieve the option to become a squire. (Cyrus's family will be nobility)._

_And for Ocaj...I started this story thinking that it would be an on-going collection of short stories that I would update whenever I had an idea or a situation I could put Glenn into. Now, however, it is solidifying into a story with some direction in which I want it to go. Spoiler in this next sentence...the story will end sometime after Glenn is transmogrified and after he reveals his fate to those he is close to. The story is coincides with "Sands of Time" as well as "The Wastelands". Hopefully you don't have to wait too long for the next chapters. I have a day off on Monday and I had the urge to write more lately. :)_

_-Gibson22_


	11. A Moment of Privilege

_**The Deformed Knight**_

_A small collection of stories containing the adventures of Glenn before his most epic journey._

_Chapter Nine; A Life of Privilege Verses a Moment of Privilege…_

Mangaranon Lane, as we have deduced, is a paradise in the eyes of those who live outside its fine gates. The peasants who walk by its guarded posts day after day can only wonder and daydream about the endless riches that these people reveled in. However, it is not known among peasants that there were people within Mangaranon Lane who felt the same pangs of jealousy. While the wealthy and rich lived within a gated community, there were people even in this wondrous place that looked toward the castle and were filled with great envy.

That had become a tradition of sorts: the closer you were to the castle, the richer and more important you were. Therefore, the mansions close to the castle were like palaces unto themselves. While there were several business men and influential people in Mangaranon Lane, most of their names were not important enough to remember in the opinion of those that lived near the castle. They were the elites among the elites.

And one of these great lodgings housed a hero whose name many shall recognize.

There was a long lineage to proclaim his nobility. The boy descended from a powerful knight known as Neros, (which served as a sort of surname for the family in honor of his deeds), who gave birth to another knight named Jacob. Jacob in turn, married into another noble house and beget a son named Mark who in turn had Gunther. In short, the genealogy of this noble family stretched back for fifteen generations and their family records were filled with the brave exploits of their ancestors. Now, in the time of Glenn's life, there were two men within this prestigious family. While the father was known as Astor of Porre, his son was known as _Cyrus of Porre_.

Yes, it is _that_ Cyrus of Porre that will lead the armies of Guardia against the Mystic hordes. However, like all great men, he was once a humble boy and was subjected to all the embarrassments and inconveniences of youth.

It was at that very moment where we see an example of a great inconvenience. He stood in a sunny and finely furnished room where the humidity of the day gave the apartment a sweltering heat. To make matters worse, he was to stand still and be clothed in thick robes unless he wished to earn a rebuke from his father who looked on with impatience. Another pain was that his father wanted utter silence as the servant made constant (and seemingly needless) adjustments to his wardrobe.

"Father, must I do this again?"

Astor looked down with a sort of tiring look and said sarcastically, "Thou art my son and thou art subject to my obsessive commands. 'Tis one of the few blessings a wicked man like me receives."

"Thou dost make light of my discomforts?"

"Aye, for I have heard them far too often, and I shall do more than that if ye do not concede with thy stubbornness."

"Father, the day is hot and our attire is heavy! I perspire! Must I wear this gaudy vest?"

"You shall, and I will hear no more of thy complaints."

Cyrus made a scoffing noise as a sign of rebellion, yet the cowardice of his youth caused him to do it as quietly as possible lest his father hear him. The servant heard, her eyes giving a warning to Cyrus to still himself, which earned her a condescending sneer. She fought the urge to say anything and continued to work on him, but looked up as she heard departing footsteps. The good man of the house was heading toward the door.

"Master? Wilt thou take thy leave? Without thy son?" The kindly maid turned her neck, her fingers holding the clothing that garnished Cyrus.

"I must meet with his majesty and discuss the affairs of the kingdom. It seems that Guardia has not taken kindly to our men at their borders."

"I see." The maid said softly, as if there was no other word that was more suitable.

The father pointed to his son, a frown on his face. "See to it that he is ready before the hour next, or by heaven and hell he shall pay for his behavior!"

"I already pay for my _obedience_! I am arranged in clothing that seems to be more uncomfortable than the stocks themselves!" said the boy, giving his tight collar a tug.

The father sighed as he slowly let go of the door handle before walking back over to his son. The father, being a man of military importance, was used to obedience and compliance. A child raised underneath an iron first usually resists with the energy of a rebel. However, that did not sway his father to act any different in manner towards his son, which was usually threatening in nature. "If thou were to put all thy smart replies into thy studies, you would be wealthy in knowledge instead of thy stupidity! Trust in me when I sayest that would be the preferable option, for so help me if you do not ready thyself with the utmost silence, you will get a taste of the stocks!"

"Doing so would make you rather popular with the neighbors, would it not?" the boy replied with a smug smile.

Even the maid laughed at this witticism, and that earned a harsh glare from her master, "Watch yourself as well; do not encourage his roguery. I take my leave."

The maid went on to work silently as the father stood there for a moment, almost as if he dared either of the two to do something against his will. He was still far from satisfied, but could not help but feel a little content as no one made a sound. He turned about and left, almost slamming the door behind him in his haste. The two were silent a moment longer before they would speak again.

"I despise it when he acts in such a disagreeable way." The boy said with an angered tone.

The maid smiled as she ruffled his brown hair, "Worry thyself not, my little man. 'Tis the wish of every father that their offspring would be as marionettes."

"Just his luck," the boy said with a humorously evil look, "he wisheth for a marionette and finds his son is a viper."

"Oh stop such talk!" the maid said impetuously, "Thou art sweeter than honey!"

"If that were true my father would be lacking in his sense of taste." The boy said semi-bitterly.

"I agree with thee, but I would ask if thou wouldst be willing to inquire as to his feelings." The maid said gingerly as if she were suggesting something outrageous.

Unfortunately, that was how the boy viewed it, "What nonsense! What reason doth he have to be angry with me?"

"Be honest, thou hath a complaining nature at times."

"Speakest thou of my attire? Thou hast agreed with my opinion! 'Tis insufferable!"

"Your father wears the same manner of clothing all day long." The maid added firmly.

"Aye! However, it is requisite for his duties!" the boy said with a tone that suggested the woman could not possibly counter such logic.

"And you say that dressing for a party for is not?" the maid replied.

"Dost thou confide with my father? Why dost thou support his recent cruelty?" the boy said accusingly.

"Support thy father I do not!" the maid said with a frustrated laugh, "Forget my words and listen not if they do not please you."

"I will. Thankfully you are only a lowly servant and your opinion means nothing." The boy said very adamantly.

The maid said nothing further, willing to allow the boy to sulk and not accept comfort. Finally, she announced triumphantly, "Aye, 'tis finished Cyrus!"

* * *

A word or two must be uttered here concerning Cyrus...

History books seem to forget the smaller and more interesting facts. No doubt, many have read the stories about Cyrus and his brave marches against his enemies. You might have also read about his limitless compassion for those he served, and about his humility. If that is so, you may have wondered this: "Who is this horrid and spoiled little boy? Surely he can't be the hero who had pushed back Mystic invasions! Surely he can't be the man known as the savior of the western kingdoms!"

However, he was. The boy who groaned and complained would become the man whom many would revere and adore. History was kind to him, and it was probably made so by the words of his closest friend who wished to defend his reputation years after his death. It is strange and coincidental that many of the personal stories we know concerning Cyrus came from retold stories and letters written by the hand of Glenn. There are many people even today who remain skeptic of Cyrus's true motives and his nature, but I do not wish to defame the noble knight Cyrus through my writings.

I wish to show him as he truly was: a man. Nothing more, nothing less.

And like most men before the world matures them, he was once a spoiled brat.

* * *

While Cyrus of Porre stood in the heat of an apartment drenched in the light of a mid-morning sun, Glenn of Porre stood by the heat of a blazing oven. A large order had come in that day, which begged even the tireless toil of the favored delivery boy. It even required the attention of the baker's wife, whom Glenn had not seen often on account of her pregnancy. The baker was hesitant to have her work, but was happy to see that Glenn volunteered to do any heavy lifting and that they had gotten along so well.

"'Tis overwhelming!" Glenn said with a smile that betrayed his statement, "How did such a large order fall upon thy doorstep on such short notice?"

"I apologize for it, my friend." The baker grunted as he lifted a tray full of rolls into the oven. "I could not turn this offer down."

"And why not?"

"Because, this is the moment I have been waiting for all these years. This could be the day that gives my name the recognition it needs."

"Out with it!" Glenn laughed.

The baker stopped his work and got on one knee, looking Glenn in the eyes and speaking with a tone of a hopeful dreamer, "There is a celebration in Mangaranon Lane today. One of our customers suggested us to the family who organized the party and I hear that many investors will be there today. It has always been my dream to expand and…" The baker was silent for a moment as if he were choosing his words carefully. He changed his topic and said, "At the very least, there will be more business. Maybe even to the point that I may hire more bakers to work underneath me. You would not have to work in the kitchen anymore and could visit everyone. Would you like that?"

Glenn said with slight sadness, "But I like to work in the kitchen with thee."

The baker gave Glenn a smile that turned into an appreciative grin. He ruffled Glenn's hair and went back to work.

* * *

Cyrus did not cease sulking even after he left the burning heat of the apartment. The cool breeze did nothing to soothe his constant pangs of annoyance as he bowed politely to anyone that addressed him. As the recipients of his quaint bows turned away, he scowled and made faces at them. However, he was unfortunate as he turned about and found himself face to face with his father. He gasped as his father pinched the hollow of his elbow insomuch that Cyrus struggled to free himself from his grasp. Astor whispered fiercely, his eyes blazing like those of a hawk, "This is an important meeting. Still thyself and show respect."

Astor released his son and did not mind the frown he received since Cyrus did nothing else. That did not stop Cyrus from making one final gesture as his father turned his back and returned to his company. Cyrus was left alone to peruse the many tables filled with things that seemed mundane to him. The ladies and gentlemen of the celebration chatted with each other, the ladies holding parasols to shade themselves from the afternoon sun. There were hardly any children at the party, and he seemed too old to bother with those that were there.

Finally there was a light, figuratively speaking, in the shape of the knight captain who was greeted with low bows and light but sincere applause. Cyrus's eyes shone as the knight walked past him, their eyes meeting for a second before the knight turned toward Astor. For a brief moment, Cyrus wished to become his father, even if it meant inheriting his stubborn ways and stupidity as Cyrus saw it. It would only be a small price to pay to associate with a man such as the knight captain who was the hero of Porre. However, the knight captain's visit was brief. Cyrus saw the reaction of his father, which was slight disappointment as the captain informed him that his attention was to be directed elsewhere.

However, Cyrus knew in the back of his mind that it was only a matter of time that he would serve the knight captain. After all, he was seeking a squire…

* * *

The baker had invested in a cart, which Glenn dragged behind him. He approached the gates of Mangaranon Lane, passing through without an incident. The streets were even busier than usual and he had no need to ask for any directions. However, that did not stop a familiar face from approaching him. Glenn gave thanks to the Lord in his mind that there was only one girl to torment him today.

"Hello." The girl said almost bashfully.

"Good day." Glenn began, waiting for the abuse that would surely follow.

The girl twirled her parasol as if she were anxiously awaiting something. Finally, after some silence she said, "That is a lot of bread today…whither goest thou?"

Glenn looked toward his cart as if he forgot it was there, "I am looking for Astor of Neros…"

"Truly? There is a celebration there that I must attend with my family in a while."

"Those were the words of my employer, yes…"

There was a moment of silence again and the girl looked to the street nervously. Suddenly, and without warning she said, "Thou hast never told me thy name."

"Thou hast never asked for it." Glenn answered guardedly.

The girl seemed a little hurt, but said gently in return, "I am Eliza…what is your name?"

"Glenn."

The girl smiled hopefully, but said nothing. She acted as if she were waiting on something again and swayed in spot. Glenn gave her an unsure look and said, "I am sorry, but I must be on my way. Before the girl could say anything else, Glenn was pulling his cart in the direction where people congregated. Eliza merely stared after him, her cheeks blushing furiously.

She had been very polite to him just now, and she had been before. However, Glenn had not learned the lesson of his master as well as he ought. For whenever he looked at that girl he did not remember her effort to save him from the city guard, but he only remembered her as the girl that won his trust and lost it when she referred to him as a "commoner" not worth bothering with. He felt a small tinge of guilt as he left her behind so hastily, but decided that time truly was running against him and did not turn back.

There were high gates that bordered the estate and guards stood without its entrance. They gave a snobby, typical glare to Glenn before letting him enter, earning the clamor of a few nobles who were not invited to the celebration. Glenn could already hear the finely tuned instruments of minstrels, the scent of slow-cooked seasoned meat, and the joyful chatter of the guests. He followed the pathway and saw tables filled with delicacies he had never seen in his life. There were candies covered in chocolate, grilled fish that was as large as a man, cheeses of all kind, and even a treat that he had never even heard of which looked like ice but was said to be as sweet as any candy and creamy as any milk.

Being new to such an occasion, he did not know the unspoken rules that surrounded interaction with the rich. Specifically, the fact about the presence of a lower breed being disdainful to some while it made others merely uncomfortable. He wandered over to an empty table and figured it was a place reserved for his goods. He began unloading, being fully aware that eyes began to become fixated on him. The joyful chatter of the party around Glenn slowly became hushed and suspicious tones.

"_Is he stealing food?"_

"_What is he doing there?"_

Suddenly, he felt a hand tug on his shoulder. He rounded about and was face to face with a man dressed as a servant. His face was fat, the tip of his nose and his cheeks permanently ruddy. Glenn stared wide-eyed and unsure about what he had done. The servant shook Glenn and with a strained and angry whisper spoke, "Stupid little beggar! What are you doing?" He did not wait for an answer, but grabbed Glenn forcefully by the arm and began to walk away from the celebration without notice. However, it was too late.

"Hold. Who do you have there, Winston?"

The servant blushed even deeper if it were possible. He spun around, still holding Glenn forcefully while he tried to hide him. "It is just a simple beggar, sir. I will escort him out now." Glenn did not say anything, for the pain in his arm took precedence as he tried to free himself from his grasp. Luckily for him, the answer from the servant was not enough to assuage the curiosity of Astor.

"Turn him to face me."

The servant reluctantly did so, seeing that many people in the party had their attention caught by Astor's commands. Glenn was brought forward, his head hanging low. Astor observed Glenn, noticing his clean clothes that paled in comparison to the choices available to the wealthy. He looked toward his hips and saw that there was nothing in the pockets. There seemed to be nothing wrong, but suddenly there was a feeling of unease. Astor turned around and saw what had frightened the servant. Even worse, the Knight Captain was within earshot and would only need to turn slightly to have his attention caught.

Astor nodded and said, "Very well. Take him to the guard. Boy, when they let you out of wherever they place thee, I certainly hope that thy lesson hath been learned." Glenn's throat went dry as those cryptic words sounded in his ears. He began to struggle and contest his innocence, but it was dulled out by the man of the house who apologized for such a scene. Glenn let his legs go limp as another servant came and helped the accuser drag him away.

"Cease such foolishness at once!"

The servants reacted just as quickly had Astor gave the order. They stepped away from the prostate form of the boy, holding their hands in front of them to show they had done nothing more than drag him. The entire crowd, which spoke lightheartedly of the tragic misfortune, was silenced as the most respected man at the celebration strode forward. Astor shrunk underneath a disproving glare and Glenn found himself being helped to his feet by none other than the Knight Captain himself. "Art thou unharmed?"

Glenn was still speechless, the fright of incarceration still numbing his senses. Upon a second questioning, Glenn summoned the courage to nod.

Astor smiled, and that smile turned to a fiercely devastating scowl as he looked up toward the servants. "For what reason hast thou laid hands upon this boy?"

"Sir Captain! The boy! He trespassed into the celebration and stole from the tables!"

The Knight Captain looked down at Glenn and said gently, yet loud enough for all those around to hear, "Is that true, boy? Was that thy aim?"

Glenn was still terrified into silence. The Knight Captain knelt in from of him and rested a gloved hand on Glenn's shoulder. He spoke softly and the kindness of his voice was soothing. "Do not be afraid. There is no punishment for the truth if thou art innocent." Glenn found that his jaw unclenched. His fists unclenched and blood returned to his knuckles. However, tears began to brim at his eyelids, which he fought off successfully. "I only delivered what my master made for the guests here. I found an empty table and I placed the food there."

Astor felt his insides plummet to his feet and his spine felt as if it were drenched in ice-cold water as he looked over and saw the proof. Even more chilling was the fact that all the guests had noticed this as well, and all seemed either sympathetic or annoyed by such an irrational accusation. Being a man who had known all the tricks of nobility since his most tender years, he was quick to act. He walked over to Glenn, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. "Dear boy," he began in an almost condescending manner, "Did you not know that deliveries are to be made to the kitchen?"

"No," Glenn said, embarrassed and unappreciative of the tone that was being used. "I was not told."

Astor fought off the swelling tide of sweet emotion in his chest so that it did not betray his facade. What Glenn had confessed to him revealed the very reason why such an unnecessary struggle occurred. It was the duty of the guards to inform any person delivering goods to the party that they should go toward the kitchen for final preparation. The guards, as Astor correctly deduced, must have omitted that bit of information as a means of embarrassing the boy. That was the window of escape that Astor capitalized on. "Such carelessness! This is all the fault of the guards! Do forgive them for their insipid jokes, dear boy."

"And what of thee?" said the Knight Captain.

"Pardon?"

"Wilt thou beg for his forgiveness? Surely, thou could have asked the boy for his thoughts before thou hast threatened him with punishment for no crime committed."

Astor blushed a deep crimson that was due to a mixture of embarrassment and outrage, the latter of which he fought tooth and nail to hide. "Surely the boy knows that this was a mere accident…"

"Was it?" The Knight Captain said, his perceptive eye piercing through the shows of amiability that hid the true intentions of Astor.

Astor almost showed his lie by stammering, but it was in Glenn's kind and gracious heart to show mercy to this man who showed none. "Sir Knight Captain, please worry not. No apology is needed since no harm has befallen me. But I thank thee for thy kindness and I only ask for the sake of my employer that my blunder does not tarnish the man who was so kind as to give work to our humble bakery." He bowed to the Knight Captain and Astor amidst the positive murmurs of the party. Glenn did not realize what a great effect he had on his employer's future that day, for an investor watched intently and was moved by such humility from a mere boy that he went into business with the man that found him. Even Astor found himself smiling graciously, and nodding his head (never lower than a simple peasant would nod nor enough to hide his neck, of course) to Glenn.

The Knight Captain smiled as he put a hand on Glenn's shoulder. "I wonder, my friend, do you need to return to the bakery immediately?"

"My master gave me permission to return home so that I may rest a while, and that is what I shall do."

The Knight Captain gestured toward the tables that littered the emerald lawns of the Neros estate, "Why not rest thyself here and sup with us?" He then indicated Astor with a raised brow, "Unless it is unbecoming of me to invite my own guests?"

"I do not mind it at all!" Astor said, who would have been lying through his teeth had he not unclenched his jaw in time.

* * *

Glenn was quite taken back by the kindness of the Knight Captain, even though he had experienced his generosity before. Thankfully, the Knight Captain was also a patient teacher for he would subtly point to Glenn the appropriate manners at the dinner table. There were strange utensils that Glenn had never seen before and had it not been for such fine tutelage he would have made an ass out of himself. The Knight Captain took him under his wing and bid him silently to watch how he ate. Slowly, Glenn began to mimic the movements and fought to devour the delicious food ravenously. He had never experienced such flavorful delicacies and he almost loathed any return to the plain soup, bread, and vegetables he ate everyday.

The silent whispering among the party from that point on was about Glenn, whom the elites referred to as "that well-spoken and polite peasant." It was during one of these conversations that Cyrus happened to find out about Glenn, who would eventually become his best friend. How strange was it that they started off as rivals! After all, when Cyrus heard that a lowly peasant had been hand-picked by the Knight Captain to eat with him, and it filled his heart with deep jealousy. Why was he not chosen? He walked throughout the estate, trying to find where his hero had gone and the rotten scoundrel that had unjustly captivated his attention. At last he saw him sitting at a table, with the lowly boy at his right hand. The boy seemed to have felt his gaze and turned to Cyrus. Glenn's eyes widened in shock at the sneer that involuntarily came to Cyrus' face.

"Be not concerned for their lack of manners, my young friend." whispered the Knight Captain into Glenn's ear. Evidently, he had also noticed the look that Cyrus gave to Glenn. "How odd is it that these people pride themselves on manners yet seem to have none?" The Knight Captain guffawed while those around him, ignorant to what he had said, laughed along out of courtesy. The conversation carried on with Glenn listening in. Astor, who had took a seat with his son, joined in the conversation and understandably in the presence of an old military man, the talk had turned political. The Knight Captain would occasionally ask his opinion on something, but out of shyness he kept his answers short. However, a matter that had slowly been brewing surfaced.

"Knight Captain," said one of the nobles, "is it possible that we may go to war with Guardia?"

War? Glenn heard nothing of this. After all, people of his station were always the last to hear of politics. The Captain shook his head, "I know not, but I do know that they would be foolish to raise a sword against us. Their troops and citizens are undisciplined. Yes, they may be prosperous now, but what good is prosperity if it is held in the wrong hands? Worry not if we do go to war with them; it would only take a slight skirmish to make those weaklings crawl back to their mothers."

This earned a round of laughter from the table. Glenn sat quietly while Cyrus shot him an occasional stare that was quite unsettling. It was almost as if he were looking for an opening of some sort.

"They are just like dogs, those Guardians." Astor said with a gruff voice and sniff, "They bark and bare their teeth, yet bloody their noses and they run away with their tails in between their legs."

"I truly don't understand why we continue to lose our working force to them. It truly must be the lowliest of our own that go to them." said a random party attendee. Glenn thought of Fisk and his mother and wished to say something, but felt constrained by a still, small voice to stay silent.

It was at this point that Cyrus saw his supposed opening that he had waited for, "I supposed that even our little friend here would be too much of a match against their troops."

It was the right delivery and right amount of pressure. Even the Knight Captain cracked a small smile while the rest of the table burst into raucous laughter. However, what was surprising to Glenn was that he was not offended or uncomfortable. In fact, what he had been wanting to say began to come out and it stilled the table and those around it instantly. "I would never want to fight them." He said simply. The Knight Captain asked if he feared the Guardians and Glenn answered that he did not. He looked up and said, "A man who is very dear to me taught me a few precepts that one should always apply to his or her life. One of them is 'the right intent'. Unless we are being endangered I would never wish to endanger the life of another."

"And why is that?" Astor began, his fingers flexing against each other as if he were praying. He rested his mouth against the side of his fingers as he leaned forward.

"A man who attacks without provocation is no different than a bully. From my experience," Glenn lowered his eyes in reverence for the fate that befell Fisk and his father, "a bully lashes out for its own shortcomings. It intimidates others into fixing their problems. Only when confronted with deadly force should the spilling of any blood be necessary, or else it ends badly."

"You do understand that because of Guardia we are entering a recession, do you not? True, they are not confronting us, but they do make life difficult for us." Added in a guest, who was beginning to listen.

"Forgive me, but I know not what thou meanest." Glenn said, his cheeks blushing.

"A recession means that there is a lack of money coming into our country which means a lack of money goes to people such as you..."

"Oh," Glenn said simply, "whenever that happens, I simply work harder to make more."

Cyrus folded his arms across his chest and sat back, his eyes narrowing as those seated stroked their chins in thought. They nodded in approval. "Simple, yet wise. I must admit, very sage for a peasant."

The Knight Captain gave Glenn a curious look and said, "How do you know of '_that_' precept?"

Glenn felt a bit of alarm at how the question was phrased. He had no idea why he had thought of this now, but he wondered if he was forbidden to learn these precepts just as some beggars were forbidden to attend school. He felt some color drain from his face as he realized that perhaps he was not meant to learn his style of fighting as well. He certainly did not wish to lie, but was frightened that he might compromise Avary. So, he merely said, "They were lessons from a friend. A kind man that tends to a garden nearby where I work."

The Knight Captain's eyebrows rose but then he quickly hid that movement and gave Glenn a weary smile with a pat on the back.

* * *

Between the commotion from earlier and the wise contribution to the conversation, Glenn had accomplished far more than his master had set him out to do. After the discussion of the supposedly impending war between Porre and Guardia, the topic became more about Glenn and what he did for work. Everyone sampled the food that he had brought and praised the work of the baker and promised that they would call upon him in their own due time. Yes, they still held him as a lowly peasant, yet they viewed him as a gracious and clever one. Clever enough to be entertaining and occasionally thought-inducing at least, but that was far more positive than the general estimation of people in his station.

At last the time for talking was over and Glenn had to excuse himself. The nobles offered him to stay longer as well as Astor (who did not mind his presence as much as before but still preferred that he had never come) but Glenn explained that he did not wish to inconvenience his master. That earned a few remarks among the nobles that ranged from "how I wish my servants were like him" or "at least this one _earns_ his keep". He turned to leave, but was stopped by the Knight Captain.

"Glenn, may I ask for a moment of your time alone?"

Glenn nodded and he stepped a short distance away from the party. The Knight Captain patted him on the shoulder and said, "You have done very well. I sincerely hope you do not mind that I have kept you here. I did so not only because you seemed hungry, but I needed a good person by my side. I have never been comfortable around people such as these."

Glenn smiled and bowed, "Good sir, please do not worry thyself. It was an honor."

"Even so, I ask that thou take a small trifle of my appreciation." The Knight Captain reached into his side pocket and pulled out a gold coin that was of high value.

"Sir! I am not worthy of such kindness!"

"You are. Please, take it with my thanks." said the Captain with a nod and smile.

The Knight Captain held the coin out with the glittering treasure resting on his open palm. Glenn's hand hovered just above the coin when the good Captain abruptly flipped his hand over, letting the coin fall toward the ground. There was the sound of a sleeve flapping and then another hand appeared. Glenn had caught the coin with his other hand before it had even fallen half a foot in length. It took a moment before Glenn even realized what had happened and he looked up at the Knight Captain with alarm. Glenn had the face of someone who had been caught doing something he should not have done.

The Captain held a serious face, yet the corners of his mouth curved upward as if he held back a smile, "Such fast reflexes...I wonder...has that been taught to thee by thy kindly gardener as well?"

Glenn stammered, unable to give a solid reply. However, he did not need one. The Knight Captain patted him on the the shoulder, gave him a wink, and began to walk away. Glenn turned about and began to leave, but was stopped by his voice.

"Glenn."

"Yes, sir?"

"'Knight Captain' is such a long name and title. Please, when we see each other next in private, thou may callest me Gavin."

"Y-yes, Gavin."

"That is good." The Knight Captain said, smiling and walking back to the festivities.

Glenn scratched his head, still unsure what to make of how the Knight Captain reacted. Even still, the time for resting was over and he had a lot of money to spend that night for supper. He made his way back the bakery where his master already heard of the tremendous success. The baker sent Glenn home and told him to rest for the day and that he had earned it. Meanwhile, Cyrus reflected on the events of the day and how he watched as that dirty peasant held the eye of his hero. A rotten plan began to form inside of his mind and he rage began to intensify. If Glenn ever crossed his path again he would make sure to embarrass him sufficiently.

_Author's note: Hope you guys enjoyed the update. It's been a while. It felt good to finally finish this chapter since I pretty much had half of it written already for quite some time. Life has been keeping me busy, so I hope you all don't mind the late update. Thanks for reading, folks. Oh, and to answer a question from Mission, I do study martial arts. I think that is why I am able to describe the pain well enough. :D (I study Yang style T'ai Chi and Kuk Sol Won primarily, but I try to learn from any style and anyone who is willing to teach).  
_


	12. To Plan for the Future

_**The Deformed Knight**_

_A small collection of stories containing the adventures of Glenn before his most epic journey._

_Chapter Ten; To Plan for the Future…_

Glenn ate heartily with his family that night. He recounted his tale of the party much to their excitement. They scowled as he recounted the incident between Astor of Neros and the perilous situation he was in. However, they beamed with pride when Glenn told them that he had been picked out by the Knight Captain himself to dine with him. A meeting with anyone that was high in status was a token of good fortune in such times, even if it did make a mark for those who were jealous. They did warn that he should be wary of anyone seeking to take advantage of him, pointing out that such people were very political and often had ulterior motives.

"I have heard tales that he is seeking out a squire." Glenn's father said as he noisily slurped the soup his wife made from the lip of the tin saucer.

"Aye," Glenn said, dropping his gaze to his soup, "there is a great clamor among the young men as to whom shall take upon the position."

"What a wondrous thing it would be if he would choose thee, eh, Glenn?" The mother crossed her arms on the table and leaned toward Glenn with a smile.

"Oh, my dear sweet wife, such a cruel way for thee to taunt our fine son! Thou knowest that a knight may choose only those of noble birth." the father said with a gleam in his eye, yet a small part containing reproach.

The humor wore off and they suddenly realized with alarm that perhaps it was an office that Glenn aspired to take. They faced him, yet he had no hurt countenance nor any sign of trouble. "Forgive us son, have we upset thee?"

"For what?" Glenn asked.

They looked at Glenn searchingly, "For saying what we have said about the Knight Captain and how he must choose a noble."

Glenn waved his hand, "Ah, 'tis nothing to me. That is not what I aspire to be."

"Thou still desirest to become a priest then?" His father asked.

"Aye." Glenn said simply, with a smile.

"Such a wonderful son have I, who even in his youth, dreams of helping others." His father ruffled his hair lovingly and smiled, yet his mother looked downward and noted that there was a sort of emptiness behind the father's smile. The emptiness was in her as well, and it struck their hearts whenever Glenn professed his aim to become a priest. How could they tell their son that people in their station could never achieve the honor of being a priest? How could they explain what they were without upsetting him and dashing his dreams into oblivion? There was a law that would later prevent Glenn from taking upon himself the mantle to bear others, but that shall be touched upon later. Meanwhile, his parents said nothing and believed that time would eventually bring the right moment to bear. They changed the topic without alerting Glenn and the rest of the evening was cheerful again.

* * *

The bakery was not its normal self that day. It was busy. Almost unbearably busy. There had never been a time where Glenn felt so exhausted by the work he had done. True to what the baker had said, the positive outing yesterday proved to be a boon for business. Orders came in from all around Porre and it was very demanding. The ovens blazed and the baker actually seemed to be impatient as he pointed out customers to Glenn and reminded him that deliveries were to be made as quickly as possible.

The deliveries had been the favorite part of Glenn's day, but today it felt rushed and caused him anxiety. When he returned to the bakery he did not have a moment to rest. He went straight to the ovens and prepared the next batch which he took as well. And so, the process went on all day long insomuch that Glenn could feel a trembling sensation in his arms and legs. Finally, the day closed and the pair sat down at a table and sighed as they felt throbbing in the soles of their feet. The baker prepared a cold pitcher of well water that they both gulped quickly. They ate a pie that the baker had prepared, which lacked a certain touch since it was rushed and cooked in between orders.

"This day was exhausting." Glenn remarked.

"True, true." said the baker as he rubbed his neck. "It is good for our pockets, but not for our feet."

"Hopefully, it shall not be so much tomorrow."

"Aye," said the baker, "but if thou do not mind it, I must retire and attend to my wife."

"'Tis of no offense to me. Please see to thy wife, sir. I shall come in the morning."

"That is a good lad. Here is thy pay for the day. Good night."

"Good night."

The baker lackadaisically tossed down a few coins that clattered on the table. Glenn nodded in thanks as the baker went behind the counter, and up the stairs at the back of his bakery. Glenn, out of habit and curiosity, began to count the money he had earned. It was usually a tradition that he did whenever the baker left his presence, seeing that his parents told him counting money in front of someone was offensive as it showed lack of trust. Trust was not the issue here; rather, it was how Glenn assessed his earnings and what he had to spend for the next day.

His eyes raised as he counted the last coin. He searched the tabletop and saw nothing else. Confused, he counted the coins again and he was certain that they were all counted correctly. He even went as far as to stack them in separate piles of the same amount. When he had done that and found he had the same amount he counted before, he looked underneath the table. There were no coins underneath that had fallen. A strange sense of confusion came over Glenn as he counted the coins again a final time. After he counted them he found that he had been paid only slightly higher than the usual amount.

"Odd...The work was harder and longer than ever, and I have been paid less."

* * *

It is only through Glenn's memoirs that we know of Avary and his dreams. It was not revealed in the tender years of his childhood, for such things would taint a young and infallible perception. When Avary looked upon Glenn as a man who had experienced the bitterness and sins of the world, he began to reveal his flaws and fears. However, according to his writings of his pupil, Avary tossed and turned in his bed that night as he relived another nightmare. He could see the chaos of battle and hear the blood-curdling scream of foe and friend alike. He could feel a hot sensation where he had been stabbed and feel the blood of the enemy squelch in between his gloved fingers. He bellowed, charging toward another target and bringing his weapon down. A spray of blood flew into the air, coating his armor once again as the victim feel to the ground.

Avary opened his eyes and trembled, a cold sweat trickling down his brow. He held that same sword that had slain many in battle. It was still sheathed, and therefore unbloodied as it had been for thirty years.

He had been sleep walking. Thankfully, in his dreaming stupor, he had not unsheathed the sword. Although he shook, he did not act in a frightened way as most would suppose. In fact, he shook his head as if he were annoyed and hung his weapon on the wall. He stumbled through the darkness and was amazed that he had not tripped or injured himself while he dreamt. He felt the smooth and soft blankets of his bed and was about to lay down before something prompted him. Perhaps it was habit, for it had become natural at that point, to kneel at his bedside and pray.

It was something that he had forsaken during his tenure as a soldier. It is strange, for some soldiers rely upon the Lord for strength immediately in the face of trouble while some others dismiss his existence when confronted with the horrors of battle. Indeed, a hymn that was popular at that time described his former attitude perfectly: _"And in despair I bowed my head: 'There is no peace of earth,' I said, 'For hate is strong and mocks the song of peace on earth, good will to men.'" _His heart weighed heavy for many years until the burden had become light to him. It was not until that day when he had met Glenn that he felt something he had not felt in many years. The mantle of his sorrow and his guilt had begun to loosen and he saw God's countenance in his face. When Glenn suffered at the hands of his tormentors, Avary could feel his sorrow and the mantle of guilt and despair bore down upon him anew.

It was that night, when Avary began to feel a growing dislike for the boy and his cowardice, that he had suddenly had an epiphany. Like a seed within his chest, he could feel something swell within him until he was overcome. He did not know why he did, but in his privacy he knelt and sobbed. All the weight of the world had finally caused him to collapse. He looked upward and begged for the mantle to be removed from him and for peace of mind. He begged that Glenn should suffer no more from the hands of his tormentors. It was that next day that he saw Glenn again and was moved to invite him to learn his art.

Those months passed and he never uttered another prayer. Although something nagged at his conscious, he dismissed it as mere coincidence. It wasn't until that day when Glenn knelt before Avary that day during training, intent to show him that submissiveness could overcome evil, that Avary felt something profound. That harsh lesson he demonstrated placed itself within Avary's heart as well, but that was not the reason he began to pray again. It was his confession that he lacked faith afterward. It was the simple questions and actions that Glenn put forth: "Why dost thou doubt?" It was the embrace that communicated a deep bond that Avary had not felt in years.

That night, he had knelt and prayed in thanks and he did not cease to pray from that night forward even until the day he died.

Those whom Avary knew would noticed this change in him. When he was asked why he had begun to believe once more, Avary would only say, "Why not?"

In truth, he felt he had rediscovered humanity and its divine destiny. He felt the peace that he thought he had lost underneath years of guilt and horror. He had been running away, refusing to acknowledge and come to terms with his guilt. When Glenn entered his life, his very outlook on the world had begun to change. When Glenn ran to the priest, seeking to find a peaceful solution to his problems, he recalled the next stanza to that long recited hymn which he used to sing in his youth: _"Then pealed the bells more loud and deep: 'God is not dead, nor doth he sleep' The wrong shall fail, the right prevail, With peace on earth, good will to men.'"_

These are things that we must know, for it explains his actions that he takes on the man who visited him that morning after he returned to bed and awoke once more with the rising sun.

* * *

The nightly disturbance had almost been entirely forgotten as Avary rose and wore his sandals. He dressed in his plain clothes and walked out into the cool world that greeted him with the sound of migratory birds retuning home. He puffed out his chest and began the day with sweeping the brick walkways of the garden. He went down his list of chores as he enjoyed the feeling of earth between his fingers and the sweet scent of budding flowers. He enjoyed relaxing on the bench during lunch while people carried on. Even though Glenn was not coming, it was still a good day and he had many visitors to his garden.

Suddenly, there was a bit of activity and Avary noticed it whenever he looked up from his work. People began to speak excitedly as if a parade were about to commence. A crowd of people went down an alleyway collectively. It was several minutes before everyone was coming back through the alleyway, making room for several soldiers that led the way. With all reverence and respect, the people bowed their heads toward a thick and muscular man who walked in between the soldiers. It was a man whose hair was short and cropped, his face clean shaved save for a mustache.

"Please, go about your business. The Knight Captain is here on official business." said a guard toward a meddling citizen.

Avary could not hear the Knight Captain and his response, but he imagined he forbade the guard and let the civilian come forward. The Knight Captain, like a hero to the people, smiled at the children who came up and touched his plate armor. He ruffled their hair much to the delight of their parents who ushered them away. He spent a little more time with the people as Avary turned his back and attended to his chores. After quite some time, Avary could hear the stifled apologies of the now distant Captain as he pulled a fresh batch of weeds from a rose bed. He then hear the jingle of armor and the heavy thud of leather boots. Avary drew in a deep breath to brace himself and rose to his feet.

"Knight Captain Gavin, to what do I owe the honor of thy visit?"

The Knight Captain bowed even lower, in an obvious show of respect, and said "It is good to see thee, my master."

Avary laughed politely, but there was a tinge of annoyance in his reply. "I am no longer thy master. Bow not and show no reverence; 'tis no longer necessary."

The sentiment was not lost on the Knight Captain. Even then, he beckoned Avary with open arms. "Wouldst thou mind but a moment of thy time be given to me? I have much to converse on."

Avary nodded and said, "For a former pupil and current friend, I would never deny such a thing. Please, let us go to my abode anon and drink. I have cider that may be quickly warmed."

The Knight Captain signaled to his men to stand idle and relax while he had a word with the gardener. The men obeyed without a word of complaint and stood watch while the pair retreated into the home. The heavy boots sounded noisily on the hard wood floor while Avary's sandals made little more noise than a mouse. Avary pulled a chair out for the Captain who eased himself into it, sighing contently. Avary went to the fireplace and struck flint to rekindle a flame. The cider, which had sat over night in a pot with a spout, was placed over the flame and Avary took his seat. They made mild chit-chat for a short while until the cider began to boil. Avary served the cider and they took occasional sips and they conversed further. Finally, Avary was growing weary of this dance and wanted answers.

"So, thou hath not answered my question. For what reason hath thou visited me?" Avary asked, leaning forward in his chair.

"There are many reasons. The primary reason being that it has been quite some time since I have paid thy home a visit."

"Ah, but thou knowest that I have raised thee from thy adolescence and have known thy father. Such a simple reason cannot be the primary cause of thy visit, but I do appreciate the flattering words."

Gavin laughed a little nervously as if he were losing a chess game, "Ah, truly thou art as perceptive as ever. I did have several questions behind my visit, and they pertain to my current dilemma."

"You must choose a squire, is that not so?" Avary asked.

"Aye, and the choice truly doth perplex me to the point that I am overcome with indecision. For that reason, I have thought long and hard on what our relationship was before I was chosen as your squire."

"And you could not remember such things on your own?"

"No, I could not, for thou wert silent about thy disappointments, agreements, and thy method of choosing. Now that I am in the same position, I prithee be frank and spare me not. How has it come be that thou hast chosen me? Was I the first choice?"

Avary scanned his face and body, seeing that nothing flinched or showed insincerity. He touched his chin and thought for a minute. "It was a difficult choice that was full of needless political squabble. There were many families who brought their children forward to learn from me. It took months to decide on a candidate. Even then, when I had finally chosen thee there was many proclamations of favoritism on my part and disagreement. It took quite some time before they had accepted my choice and things returned to normal. I had chosen thee for thy father was a nobleman and a hunter who passed his skill unto thee, which was something I wished to know. It made training thee all the more easier. Also, thou wast a sober child who treated all those around thee well. You were steadfast in belief of God and country, and that is why I had chose thee. Among many other things."

"A nobleman's son? Is rank in society so important?" Gavin said with a heavy sigh.

Avary gave him an odd look that showed he did not understand why the conversation took this turn. "It has been that way since the birth of the monarchy. Noblemen lead those whom they lord over into battle. It strengthens familial pedigree and social rank. It creates better leaders and binds the nobles closer together to prevent treachery."

"I wonder...what would happen if someone who was not of noble blood became a squire to the Knight Captain?" Gavin laughed.

Avary smiled, "Ah, there would be more than dispute, claims of favoritism, and disagreement; there would be opposition. You would be cause a great rift between the military and the noble families."

Gavin frowned, "That is but nonsense! There is no reason to refuse a good hand! A peasant squire bleeds the same as a nobleman. How ridiculous!"

"If thou art thinking of choosing a squire out of the poor than thou'rt wise to prepare for talks of incompetence and threats of expulsion from the Order. Besides, there are plenty of fine young men of noble blood that thou mayest choose from."

"None of these compare to the one I have seen." Gavin said gravely.

"Thou'rt serious? Thou wish to anoint a peasant to such a station?" Avary laughed, "Gavin, what peasant could be so promising that thou would talk such nonsense?"

Gavin covered his throat with and looked up at Avary.

Avary gave him a glance that showed dawning comprehension. "Surely thou cannot mean..." Avary shot to his feet, his brow furrowing and eyes narrowing, "No. It is out of the question."

Gavin stood on his feet as well, "What other choice could there be? Surely, there must be some odd reason that thou hast trained the boy. There must be some reason that thou hast taught him the precepts of our Order. For what reason wouldst thou teach such things unto Glenn? For what reason do you glare at me so? Am I so mistaken in what I deem as worthwhile?"

Avary turned to Gavin, his fists clenched at his sides. "The reason for which I have taught him what I know is relevant only between him and I. Thou hast no place in it."

Gavin did not tighten his fists nor take an angry tone, but he stood innocently. "What sly excuse is this? What reason could there possibly be for thy outburst? Surely, this would be a boon to his family! He would receive the blessings of education, he would receive fame and the audience of the king! Why wouldst thou deny him such things?"

Avary said nothing. Instead he turned away, his arms folding over each other.

The Knight Captain shook his head in annoyance, "Silence? Is that all I am to receive?" He sighed heavily, "Once upon a time, I knew a man who was forthright and honest. He taught me to confess whatever ailed my heart and I have followed through on it. And now, here I am, confessing a secret that could severely damage my reputation and thou will say nothing. Hypocrisy is very unbecoming of you, sir."

Avary turned about sharply. He inched toward the Knight Captain who held an impressive height over him and hissed, "You shall never train the boy. I forbid it."

The Knight Captain frowned, "Thou has no command over my decision. I have come as a friend for thy advice. Instead, thou hast shown me discourtesy and hath called me out. I will not allow myself to be disrespected, and now I wish for nothing more but to spite thee. Thou only hath thyself to blame. I will train the boy."

Avary was quickly becoming filled with anger. He paced back and forth with Gavin watching him carefully. His hands clenched and unclenched while he occasionally beat himself on the forehead as if he were trying to restrain himself. Finally, it became too much as he went to the wall. His hand gripped the sword that he had not used in battle for thirty years. With a swift motion, the gloriously shining steel sword was out and pointing threateningly at the Knight Captain who had drew his own.

"Avary! HAST THOU GONE MAD!?"

"Even if thou were to give the offer to Glenn, he would refuse it! He hath no desire to be a soldier!"

"Then what would he be, my master? A baker? Dost thou know that his employer is set to leave this city? Dost thou know that Glenn will be jobless in a season or two?"

Avary's face widened in surprise, but the sword did not lower itself. He quickly regained his thoughts, "He has designs to become a priest. What use wouldst thou have for a priest?"

Gavin frowned, "Thou knowest as well as I that no pauper ever became a priest in this country." Gavin added sarcastically, "And even then, how shall he lead his congregation? Shall he quote the scriptures and their entirety by memory? He cannot read, he is not learned, and he is as ignorant as a suckling babe!"

"I know this!" Avary said with a throaty growl. "And there is nothing more I wish for than for him to stay that way!"

"Aye, I see it now...you wish this poverty upon him, do ye? What cruel intentions doth thou have for this boy?"

"Fool!" Bellowed Avary. "Hast thou forgotten the devastation that battle wages upon the soul? Hast thou forgotten all the times that thy faith had been tried? Doth thou remember the hopelessness felt before a battle? Dost thou truly which to subject such a great soul to such horrors? Hast thou forgotten what lifeless shells soldiers may become?"

Gavin's eyes had widened and he began to understand. His sword lowered as did Avary's. "Of all things that thou fear most, thou doth fear the loss of his innocence?"

"Among other things..." Avary said, his sword returning to its sheath.

"All men lose their innocence, Avary. 'Tis the way of the world."

"Not this one." Avary said, his stance becoming rigid and unmoving. "Thou may expose any young man to the indecencies of the world, but not this one."

"But why? Of all thy students and peers, of all thy underlings and friends, why this boy?"

How could Gavin possibly understand? He could not see the change that Avary underwent; not yet anyway. How could he allow the boy who changed him to face the horrors he wished he could leave behind? The thought of Glenn taking a life made him shudder. Avary could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand and he said with conviction. "Thou doth know that I pledged never to wield my blade again...but I shall break my oath if thou doth pursue that boy. I will aid thee in thy selection of a squire and I promise it shall be a worthy candidate. But as for the boy, I will fight to protect his way of life. I owe him that much. And thou doth owe me that much. Swear unto me that thou will not choose the boy."

"I will not choose him now...but I cannot swear it, Avary."

"Then," Avary said darkly, "prepare thyself for the day you must choose your candidate. If it is Glenn, I shall come for thee."

"Avary," Gavin's sword was put away and he gestured to Avary with open palms and arms, "what of the fealty to one's country? What of the way to a better life? No life cannot be shielded from the wickedness of the world. Is it not true that Glenn had grown by that same token? Had he not become _more_ honest and _more_ stronger in the face of adversity?

Avary began to see his point, but shook his head all the same. "What dost thou know of his adversity and trials?"

Gavin stepped closer as he spoke, his hands finally finding Avary's shoulders as he finished his words. "I know much of the boy. I had my eye on him the day he begged leniency on those guards who mistreated him so. Such a kind heart caught my eye, and my father had told me often that hearts of gold can lead hearts laden by sorrow into glory. I saw the potential in the boy, and so I sent my most trusted men to inquire of him and I have discovered much. I know how he was misused by those boys, I know of his troubles with that madman Nathaniel, I even know of the priest whom he visits often. I have known that thou hast trained him as thou hast trained me. I know of his goodness, of his charity, and of his loyalty."

"And so, you say that his 'peasant blood' must be shed like any nobleman, is that not so?" Avary retorted, turned away so that Gavin's hands feel away.

"Thou'rt smarter than that. Thou knowest that is not at all my intention."

"Then what is it?" Avary almost barked, his body facing Avary once again with his arms folded.

"To restore faith in the kingdom. To show to people that we still love them."

"By forcing them to fight?" Avary replied harshly.

"By giving them a chance for something better." Gavin stated stronger still. "They doubt that their country loves them. Thou hast seen it on their faces whenever the king proclaims his will. Thou hast seen it as the wealthy, who have worked hard for what they have earned, earn the revilement of those who spend their days in a hopelessly drunk stupor! Thou hast seen it when the wealthy cast down the poor in turn, out of frustration and discontent. To allow a boy who is humble, pure, and loved among the people to progress shall show them that men may accomplish whatever they wish as long as they _work for it_!"

Avary nodded in mutual agreement and then crossed himself, "It is not for Glenn to change the perception of fools. It is his life and how he would live it, and quite frankly I believe that he would not waste it by spilling blood!"

"You speak as if all a soldier does is spill blood and spread death. He would travel the world and aid those in turmoil. He would uphold the law and order by which we protect our people. Hast thou been out of service for so long that thou'rt willing to call us murderers and vicious men? Hast thou forgotten the good that had been wrought by our hand? Hast thou forgotten the many lives we have saved in our service to the king?"

Avary looked down to the ground and smoothed out a strand of his hair, "I never meant to confuse the two. I meant no disrespect toward those good men or to infer them as murderers. But you must understand that there will come a time where he must fight and shed blood. Canst thou ponder, even for a moment, what pain would show in his features then? Couldst thou even comprehend the guilt that would wash over him?"

"It happens to every soldier. We know the feeling well. But it goes away. We realize that we kill those who would have killed us and that either side had done its duty. We become used to it and we know that it will soon pass. 'Tis sorrowful that it becomes easier, but it does."

Avary batoned with his arm, "And that is the point! I do not wish that upon him! His parents certainly would not wish such a thing upon him! And I am certain that he would never desire such a thing!"

"But to serve others. Wouldst he desire that?"

"Aye." Said Avary morosely. He began to build his optimistic tone as he continued, "He would...but he could do such things as a priest."

"Unfortunately, he could never do such a thing. You know this as well as I, but not to the knowledge that I do."

"Of what speakest thou?"

Gavin lowered his head and said, "Behold, there is a law that had long since been passed that a man cannot take the mantle upon himself if he had been born to parents who were unwed. Upon searching their circumstances I have found that his parents had never been wed."

Avary looked at him with suspicion, "What manner of trickery is this?"

"I speak the truth. They had not money for a ceremony. Instead, the exchanged their vows in the presence of friends, but not under the eye of a priest or a man of law. Their marriage had never been notarized, nor had it been committed by one with priesthood authority. Their marriage, in the eyes of the government, is void, and sadly that is all that matters if he should desire to become a priest."

His eyes went wide in shock. Then Avary gnashed his teeth as the shock disappeared and anger filled him, "Of all the vile and contemptible things that laws may require...Damn the law to _hell_ and those who _made it_!" He slapped the tabletop loudly and it resounded with a loud boom. "Who are they to pass judgment on a man through the faults, _if they may even be called that_, of his parents? This is charged, I say! Such laws are why thine people hate ye! Thou knowest _full well _that people under circumstances such as Glenn's family could never afford the overly extravagant demand for which the state asks! 'Tis entrapment, and they know it!"

"Aye," the Knight Captain said with a bow of his head. "However, that is what is needed: a beggar who holds a justice in his heart that could never be tainted. He could counter the injustices caused by contentions between our classes and restore the law to what it used to be. Dost thou not comprehend by now that this is not only about his innocence? This could be bigger. This very decision could bring about the change that we have desired for so long: the freedom to act and improve one's station and the restoration of the people's faith in those that lead them."

Avary laughed, almost in a scoffing way, at Gavin. "I do remember that thou doth dream as vividly as any other man."

Gavin shook his head, "I see there is no discussion to be had here. I regret that you shall be angry with me, but I need that boy. It may destroy me, it may cause unrest, but the opportunity is too great and the time is too prudent. I will set this plan in motion, whether I have thy blessing or no."

Avary did not know what caused him to speak. Perhaps he could feel the conviction in his parting words, or perhaps there was a part of him that wished for the same thing. Nonetheless, he called out to Gavin's retreating form and asked him to draw nearer. Gavin looked at him appraisingly and smiled as Avary bade him to take a seat. Thus began the planning of the future and what may happen. However, as the conversation continued and came to an ending, Avary made it very clear that this decision rested in Glenn's hands alone. He told the Knight Captain that if he in any way forced this position upon Glenn he would deal with him severely. Gavin agreed and they parted ways with an honest embrace.

_Author's Notes: Hope you all enjoyed this installment. I better get to work on "Sands of Time" and keep it balanced. If you've been reading that as well, keep an eye on it. :)_


	13. The Path of Right Speech

_**The Deformed Knight**_

_A small collection of stories containing the adventures of Glenn before his most epic journey._

_Chapter Eleven; The Path of Right Speech_

As Glenn walked home that night he stared at the paltry collection of coins he tossed in his hand. He then brought to his attention the aching soles of his feet and thought how he would usually look at his hands and feel comforted by what he held. That was not the case this time. In fact, the lack of coins seemed to hurt his poor heels even more and it made him hunch over as if he were a snarling dog. His brow furrowed as he reflected on the baker's attitude earlier that day. He recalled how he never had a moment's rest and how he never received a compliment for the work he had done.

Already, his face began to glower and he felt the need to lash out at something.

* * *

The next day was not that much better. Glenn awoke in the morning, his moodiness from the night before having left him. He found himself refreshed and ready to take on the duties of the day, affirming to himself that yesterday was nothing but a busy day and that there would be some improvement. However, when he arrived at the bakery he found the front crowded with customers and the good master looking impatient. Glenn shrunk below his gaze that seemed to demonstrate disapproval, and he attended to the oven.

The rest of the day carried on the same way it had yesterday, only the work seemed to be even worse. The time was short and there were many places to go. Glenn did not even have time to waste on the young girls of Mangaranon Lane who showed surprise when he refused to defend himself against their spurious charges. Also, they found that he carried multiple deliveries in a handcart that the baker had ordered to be built. Glenn was sure to move quickly, for if he took too long he would receive an admonition from the baker before he was sent off again to complete his deliveries. Finally, the day was done and Glenn sat with the baker once again.

"This day was even worse than the last!" Glenn exclaimed, wiping his forehead free of perspiration.

The baker grunted and Glenn furrowed his brow, for he did not know if it signified agreement or annoyance.

Finally, the day came to an end and Glenn found himself smiling. The baker had a sort of smile on his face, but there was something odd behind it, as if it were there because of something that Glenn knew nothing about. Nonetheless, Glenn paid it no mind and he allowed himself to relax and enjoy the cool breeze of the night air. He and the baker enjoyed a casual conversation about the customers, how they were doing, and what they needed. However, as their time together grew to an end, the baker took on a slightly more reproving tone. "Glenn, work has been busy lately and it doth hinder me when my pupil does not come at a reasonable hour."

"If it please thee sir," began Glenn gently, "we have never agreed on a time for my arrival. I came only when I was able."

"Then thou art to be here before the sun rises and not a moment sooner." The baker said, taking a swig of his cider before slamming the empty mug on the tabletop. "Responsibility is something that all people must have, and I do confess that thou hast the lion's share when it comes to children of thy age. However, you do work for me and I need thee to be prompt."

"Aye," Glenn said, fighting back any protestation he felt. "I shall do so and I shall see ye on the marrow before the sunrise."

"That is a good lad." The baker said, giving a heavy and almost uncomfortable pat on Glenn's back.

He tossed coins on the table and went upstairs while wishing Glenn a pleasant evening. When he was out of sight Glenn began to gleefully count his coins. He knew the wages that day had to be astronomical in comparison to what he had made before, for he was tired more than ever and there was no denying the large sack of coins that Glenn returned to the bakery after his deliveries. However, he found his heart sinking as he counted the final coin. Just as he had done the night before he recounted his stack and found that he had been sorely underpaid for the work he did.

"Mayhaps 'tis a punishment for my tardiness...It is nothing more. I shall be on time for the marrow and he shall pay me in full." Glenn said, scooping up the coins into the hem of his shirt.

* * *

Glenn and Avary were both oddly silent as they practiced together that day.

From our perspective, we can see what had bothered the two. Avary's mind was still heavy with the new weight of what he was teaching Glenn. It almost made him feel like a fool as he recounted the hours they spent practicing the arts. What in the world was he thinking? Was he passing down his style only because he did not want it to be lost? Was he so bored and lonely that he was willing to inadvertently teach a child to take a life? Was his motive just as pure as giving Glenn the means to protect himself? What if he truly had started to groom him for knighthood? As we may surmise, the silence he held was a guilty one.

Glenn's silence was strong as well, however Avary could see at least that had nothing to do with his training. Glenn's balance was off and he found himself being easily disarmed or toppled over. From his years of training cadets and young knights, Avary knew the mood and train of thought this signified. He disarmed him once again, the blade of the sword clattering to the ground. Glenn went to pick up the sword and Avary could not stop himself, "Is there something troubling thy heart, my young apprentice?"

Glenn and his master were fast reaching the point where they almost thought as one. Therefore, Glenn saw no reason to try and hide his feelings. "It pertains to my work, master...however, if it pleases thee, I wouldst prefer that our conversation pertain to the sword and not to any other matters at this point."

Avary smiled and said, "Very good, Glenn. The benefit of training earnestly in the art is that it clears the mind of distractions. Again, and remember to loosen thy grip or else the hilt shall shock thy hand."

* * *

Work had been even worse that day.

It was astounding how busy they have been and almost how unbearable the load was. The baker was in an even fouler mood than ever toward Glenn. The poor boy's mind was racking itself, trying to conjure up a suitable reason to have earned his impatience and indifference but he could not. He would have asked him, but the good baker showed such signs of contempt and hostility that Glenn did not want to even risk it. What could have possibly upset him so? It could not have been something that Glenn had done since he made very sure to be at work before the sunrise. He would have time to think of it as he went about deliveries.

When night came again, Glenn found his feet to be almost throbbing in pain. He stretched his legs out underneath the table and leaned back in his chair. The baker only counted out his coins silently, as if he were in no mood to speak. When he finished counting he slid the coins toward Glenn who did not even need to count the coins to realize that he had been short-changed once again. He gave the baker a stare of incredulity that the baker noticed. The baker looked at him, almost daringly, beckoning him without words to say something. Glenn's face softened out of fear of upsetting his employer and the baker turned about to go upstairs. "Thou hast done very well today, Glenn. I shall see thee tomorrow."

"Many thanks..." Glenn said, with no sincerity in his tone.

As he walked home that night Glenn did so with a scowl. He counted the coins in his hands over and over again, which only made his anger worse. What was going through the mind of that baker? How could he be so unfair? What had changed since the celebration at the Astor estate and now? Did the baker think that a service from a poor, homely boy was owed to him now that he was so sought after by those fatheads in Mangaranon lane? When he reached home his parents had noticed his behavior.

"Why, my son! Why dost thou storm about so?" Asked his mother.

"'Tis nothing; if it please thee, I wish not to speak of it."

"Has the baker underpaid thee again, son?" Said his father.

"Aye, he has." Glenn said, his eyes still downcast.

"Let it bother thee none, my dear boy." His father said with a slight wave of his hand that turned into the wagging of a pointed finger, "However, do not let this matter sit. Thou'rt entitled to receive what thou hast worked for. Ask for thy fair payment on the morrow. He is a good man. He shall give it to thee. Mayhaps there is a reason that he has withheld it from you so."

"Aye...I shall. I must sleep now. I grow weary." Glenn said while making a show of rubbing his eyes.

"Sweet dreams, my little man." His mother ruffled his hair and kissed his head affectionately before she gave him a gentle nudge toward his bedding.

Glenn settled beneath the needles of hay that made his bed, but he did not rest. He closed his eyes until they were very narrow slants so that he may watch, for when he reached his pile he heard his parents speaking to each other in a familiar tone. Children are far more perceptive than adults imagine them to be, for his parents thought themselves clever and made light conversation until they knew their child was asleep. Glenn had figured out this trick once when he was awakened by their discussion one night. They had seen him and stumbled oh-so clumsily to hide what they had been speaking of and they gave themselves away from that point forward. Therefore, he knew that he would hear what his parents must have imagined if he only mimicked sleep in appearance and noise.

"Melanie," said his father who listened for the heavy sighs of slumber, "I believe he has left us."

"Aye, that is good dear," said his mother. "What do you make of the baker? We do well with the earnings that Glenn brings home and our own, but it is not fair that he is so sorely mistreated."

"I agree. The baker had been so generous before. However, I am afraid that he has fallen in with those pompous fools of the Mangaranon court." The father said this with a dismayingly slow shake of the head.

"It is true that Glenn has brought much favor to him, but it seems as if that knowledge has left our good baker. He doth owe Glenn for all the benefits he hath wrought. However, if it is true as thou hast said, his new friends must have a profoundly negative affect." said Glenn's mother. She bit her thumbnail and said nervously, "What if he is purposely short-changing Glenn because he is beginning to think himself better than those around him, merely because he deals with the soiled upper-class?"

"It is possible. We see such behavior from those ruffian guards who are merely picked by chance...what shall we say of a man who had been picked by his talents, or verily, a man who had been picked because of the greatness of the one who serves him? 'Tis a very unfortunate thing indeed." Glenn's father raised a hand of warning before saying, "But perhaps we speak in error..."

"Mayhaps it wouldst be prudent that thou speaketh with the baker and ascertain his intentions."

"I suppose," began Glenn's father who looked down at his rough hands, "but to do such a thing could prove to be detrimental. It is not my burden. Glenn is a young man now, and if he feels he is being mistreated he shall do what is right and talk to the good baker himself."

His mother gazed lovingly at Glenn and smiled sweetly at him, "He is such a wonderful boy, is he not?"

His father smiled, "Aye...God hast blessed us immensely. What a fine creature we hath brought up."

Glenn smiled at these words and let himself fall asleep, knowing that his parents would begin to discuss safer topics. Glenn decided in his mind that no matter the mood he received, he would talk to the baker as his parents had said. Surely what they said about the baker could not be true. He could not have so easily disregarded him! Not the man who had given Glenn a steady means of supporting himself! Not the man whom he shared many fond memories with! No! There must simply be another reason! With those thoughts comforting his mind, he passed on into a restful sleep.

* * *

Glenn could feel his heart pound in his chest as he swept away the crumbs from the dinner table. He and his master had finished their evening meal after a hard day of work. The baker had been his usual, kind and amiable self that day and it made Glenn think twice about discussing payment with him. However, it came down to the issue of payment as the baker put his coins upon the table. He swept a portion of the pile toward Glenn, and it was smaller than ever. The fleeting sense of relief that comes when a fight is avoided left immediately. Glenn could feel the bristling of hairs on his neck and his fists clenching underneath the table. His face became a bitter frown which he hid before he clumsily began his assault.

"So, is this all I am to receive?"

The baker looked toward Glenn, a sign of fearful surprise on his face. "What meanest thou, Glenn? I have paid thee well."

"Aye," Glenn began, already feeling defensive at the dismissive tone the baker seemed to take with him, "but it is not nearly the amount thou hast paid me in prior days. 'Tis far less."

"Glenn, thou hast said nothing of thy payment until now. And doth thou approach me with such a reprobate tongue?"

"Reprobate? Reprobate you say? The only thing that is reprobate is thy demeaning treatment toward me and the coin that thou, for some unknown reason, refuseth to render unto me!"

The baker seethed in between his teeth, "Glenn, art thou accusing me of purposely withholding money from thee? Hast thou forgotten that I have given thee this opportunity? Doth thou repay generosity to all those who assist thee in this way?"

Glenn scoffed, a cruel action that had had never done before and it made him feel strange to do it. "Whatever I hath needed to restore to thee, I have done it already and perhaps three times over. It is I who hath brought these newfound customers to thee and thou hath cast me out from it!"

The baker rose from his table and frowned at Glenn, "I believe the time has come for this conversation to come to an end."

"Not until I receive what I had fairly worked for!" Glenn growled.

"Thou hast already received it! Now be gone from my sight, ungrateful boy!" The baker answered back heatedly, his arm pointing Glenn toward home.

Glenn bowed mockingly, his gesture being a favorite among the filthy children of Beggar Lane. "Of course, my majesty. Perhaps thou may find comfort with thy new friends in Mangaranon Lane. Mayhaps their spoiled children shall work for thee, and mayhap they will befriend your child and not associate with such dross such as-"

Glenn was not able to finish his sentence before the baker fumed, his face turning a furious red. "Leave me now!" He shouted, "And forget that thou hast ever worked here!"

Glenn felt a certain dread fill him, as if he had stepped over a boundary that he did not know. However, he had gone too far now and his blood boiled within him and pressured him on further. "Let us see how well thou wilt do without thy little slave to bend to thy every whim!" As Glenn stormed off, he could feel the baker watching him. Glenn fancied that he must have held regret or hesitancy and that he would call back Glenn and beg for forgiveness. Yes, he expected that at any moment he would call out for him. When he did not, Glenn expected to hear his pounding footsteps rounding the corner. When that did not happen, Glenn imagined that he would be approached from the rear as he neared his home. When that did not happen, he expected a knock on the door as he talked to his parents about what transpired. When his assumptions failed him once again he expected that he would come for him in the morning before the bakery opened.

The baker never came.

* * *

Instead of feeling the dread of potentially losing a job, Glenn felt his anger burn and he almost wanted to return to the bakery and have words with his employer.

"Glenn," began his father, slowly and gingerly, "perhaps it is wise to ask the baker for an apology."

That earned an incredulous look, "But father, he has been using me! I could hear it in his voice!"

"Has he said such a thing?" His father asked, his eyebrows rising with shock.

"He did not need to, father! I could hear it in his tone! He has treated me ill, as if I was a slave."

His father's eyes furrowed and he stroked his chin ponderously, "That shall not do. You wait here, I shall have words with him later today." The events started coming with such rapidity that it almost seemed to happen within seconds. After all, when something is constantly on your mind it is never too far from you. Between his angered thoughts, which had become frenzied, and words thought on and wished he said, it seemed nary a second passed until his father returned. A look of annoyance was on his face as he bowed down to enter the home. Glenn's mother, who had returned from the market, unloaded her provisions and asked what all the fuss seemed to be about.

"That baker is a crook, and I am amazed he hast kept his nature hidden from us for so long!"

"Why, my husband! What vile things could he have said to earn such condemnation?"

"He called my son ungrateful and stubborn, Melanie."

When Glenn heard those words he fumed with anger. Not only did he lose his composure incrementally, his mother did almost instantly. She gasped and gave Glenn a loving pat on his shoulder, "He said such a thing about our little boy? Of all the disgusting and horrible things a man could say about an innocent boy! It is his fault! Perhaps he could have fooled another, but the fact that he had been caught in such a thing and then dishonors the one who caught him? Despicable!"

It was when the good woman of the household heard this that the real trouble began to start. People had already wondered where Glenn went and they asked this when they approached the baker. While he stayed mostly silent on the subject, Glenn's mother was quick to tell her friends about the injustice and the harsh things he had said about Glenn. After all, a woman who loved her son felt the need to defend him. To make matters worse, she was a woman with many friends and she loved to gossip often. Within a few days, there were rumors flying about. There were those who were slow to do business with the baker and those who looked at Glenn with a sort of suspicion. Not only that, but the resentment between the baker and Glenn had grown deeper and deeper.

* * *

Of course, it wasn't long until Avary had caught news of this argument between Glenn and the baker. By then, the story had swelled in such a way that it no longer resembled the actual truth. There were varying accounts that were either in the middle or in the extremes on both sides. However, Avary was not really interested in the truth. What he was interested in was the progression of his pupil, physically and mentally. He had allowed Glenn to help him in the garden so that he may have means of supporting himself, although he could not offer as much as the baker. In that time, he had seen the degeneration in Glenn's attitude. While he was angry at first, he became increasingly vengeful.

Why was his attitude such a distraction? Perhaps it is best if we hear it from the words of the good master Avary himself: _"When one fights, he must be as a clean slate. He must be focused and not encumbered by the cares of the world. A true fighter's heart increases due to exertion and nothing else. Should the mind ever acknowledge that the heart quickens its pace due to anger or fear, the mind is distracted and it either loses control or focuses on its target with its hates and not on its surroundings. Thy skills begin to narrow, thy eyes become strained, and thou overexertest thyself with blows, throwing all thy weight off balance only to be easily toppled. With fear, thy mind is only interested in self-preservation and prevention of pain. It is better to fight with anger than with fear, but it is far better to remove all emotions from battle so that thou may become instinctual and free from worries of wrong actions. For if thou'rt angered, how knowest thou when to stay thy fist? If thou art fearful, how knowest thou when to strike?" _

Avary toppled Glenn easily every time they sparred. It came to the point where Avary saw that Glenn began to regress and become frustrated. However, that fact was not lost on Glenn either. He began to show insecurity and unwillingness to apply himself to his studies. It came to a point where Avary waved a daily lesson and instead sat Glenn down to have a conversation. Glenn already knew what was coming, because in prior days the kindly gardener had asked him about his faltering relationship with the baker. Glenn usually answered in the same way: a shrug and an expressed desire not to discuss it. Glenn tried to same gesture again, but was surprised when Avary ordered him to take a seat as his teacher commanded.

"I understand that it is no business of mine when it hath not interfered with thy progress, but thou art irate, forceful, and unfeeling when we spar. As my student, it has come upon me to sort this out only because it has begun to affect my teachings."

"Master, please forgive thy student if he sounds disrespectful, but I feel thou art in the wrong."

Avary chuckled and his hands formed a steeple as he spoke, "Ah, but my young friend, I am very much right. I can see in your eyes that thou hast realized this quite some time ago."

Glenn looked down to the ground, his right arm clasping his left arm above the elbow as it hung to the side, "I know not of what you speak, sir."

"Thy outward signs give thee away. I see uncertainty and hesitancy even as thou doth speak to me. I have observed your unwillingness to look into my eyes as I speak and that alone gives thee away."

"Outward signs?"

"Yes," Avary nodded slowly, "they are manifestations of the body that show what the mind thinks and it hath shown me that thou doth realize thy regression and why it hath occurred."

"And what are they?"

Avary patted Glenn on the shoulder and said, "To be able to observe beings and understand their inner workings and feelings by how they stand, the way their eyes glance, and how they move, may easily be used for wrong reasons. I shall teach thee these methods so that it may aid thee later in thy life. However, for now, there are other things that thou must attend to and I will not skip steps."

Glenn lowered his head, but then looked to Avary and began to tell his story with open arms. "The baker hath been refusing me normal pay. The work has been incredibly hard, yet there is no incentive pay. Nay, he pays me lower and lower to the point where I know he doth swindle me!"

"Thou art certain that he is purposely swindling thee?"

"Aye," Glenn said, his eyes narrowing at the thought, "for when I had spoken to him about the thing, his anger was kindled against me and he casteth me out."

"But why wouldst he do such a thing? Thou'rt his friend and confidant. Surely there must be a reason..."

"It is those rich, spoiled people from Mangaranon lane. They have poisoned his mind against me and he doth treat me poorly for the reason of myself being poor."

"He hast said this to thee?" asked Avary with anger and incredulity, believing that Glenn must have been telling the truth.

Glenn hesitated for a moment and brushed his hair from his ear, "Aye...he gave himself away."

Avary cocked an eyebrow in suspicion, which caused Glenn to regard him carefully. Avary leaned in closer and said, "That was not my question if he gave himself away or not. Has he said those words?"

Glenn looked to Avary and then looked off somewhere in the distance as if he wished he were anywhere except in front of Avary's penetrating gaze, "He did not need to say those words...I know what he meant."

Avary sighed and leaned back, "No, my young pupil, you do not. You do not know why he hath paid thee less, and I can see that truth in thy actions."

Glenn crossed his arms and said with some heat, "But the words of my parents and the words of all those in Beggar's Lane can attest to how the rich treat the poor! Ask any of them!"

Avary leaned in closer and said, "They do not know the baker as well as thee. You know his thoughts and how he should treat thee. No, say it plainly: you do not know the reason for his behavior, is this not so?"

Glenn looked to the ground and sighed deeply. He thought for a moment, as if he were trying to counter Avary's logic. He nodded slowly and said, "Aye, I doth confess it."

"Why did you not get the truth from him?"

"He was wroth with me, my master. He wished to speak with me no longer after I spoke of him treating me as dross."

Avary nodded sagely and said, "Hast thou ever heard the proverb, 'A soft answer turneth away wrath'?"

Glenn nodded and said, "Yea, I have."

"Was thy answer soft? Or was it accusing?"

Glenn massaged his forehead which slowly began to bead up with sweat, "'Twas an accusation..."

Avary patted Glenn on the back and said, "This is the first lesson I shall give thee to reading the intents of others, and it happens to be a part of the code of the eight paths I hath endeavored to teach thee: the right speech."

"How could right speech be a matter of martial conduct?"

Avary smiled and said with a grin, "Everything, my young pupil. It has to deal with everything. There were many times in my service that I was called upon as a mediator. Men wouldst argue amongst themselves at various times, and often at times that would imperil their performance under the heat of battle. Also, knowing the right way to address your men creates trust and love. There were many times where my men would grow angry with me, but I never accused them of wrong doing. I would only ask and observe. I would pour honey into their ears until the truth was obtained and I was able to solve the problem. Speaking softly does not only build trust and friendships, it solves the woes of our world. Speaking with right speech exercises our agreeability so that we do not kindle the anger of others so that they do not become blind to the truth once we bear it to them. How strange it is that pride and anger doth blind us so that it obscures truth, stiffens our tongue from telling truths, builds walls, and destroys reputations..."

Glenn hung his head as he thought of his mother and how she derided the baker to her friends. Without doubt, Glenn knew of the many rumors that circulated about the baker. In his anger he did not stop to think that he wasn't even sure why the baker had treated him so poorly. "I hath burned a bridge so that it may never been crossed again..." Glenn said, his face falling into his hands.

Avary laughed as if he disagreed, "Friendships are never destroyed. They may become distant, they may become hostile, they may even become enemies, but if thou stayest calm and keepeth love in thy heart, they tongue may solve problems that thy fists cannot. For those who can ease the hurt, even the most relentless of foes can become a friend if the right speech is used."

It was Glenn's turn to laugh as he said, "And yet thou teacheth me to fight first and to speak softly last?"

Avary joined in the laughter. When they both stopped he said with solemnity, "Speaking may solve all problems, but there must needs be time and an idea of what may need to be spoken of. Unfortunately, the answers may never come. In some seasons, there would be no way to avoid a battle unless all is done perfectly and at the right time. There are men who are so gifted with discernibility that they can assuage the hardest of hearts and speak the words that their enemies need to hear to remove hatred from their hearts...but most of us are not that lucky. Even if his view may be right, that man is not perfect and will not always say the right thing. Diplomacy is above all, but the need to defend thyself is useful when negotiations fail."

"And how do I speak rightly?"

"By stilling thy anger; by removing all accusations from thy speech. Indeed, a wise man described a perfect mediator by saying thus: 'Abandoning false speech...He speaks the truth, holds to the truth, is firm, reliable, no deceiver of the world...Abandoning divisive speech...What he has heard here he does not tell there to break those people apart from these people here...Thus reconciling those who have broken apart or cementing those who are united, he loves concord, delights in concord, enjoys concord, speaks things that create concord...Abandoning abusive speech...He speaks words that are soothing to the ear, that are affectionate, that go to the heart, that are polite, appealing and pleasing to people at large...Abandoning idle chatter...He speaks in season, speaks what is factual, what is in accordance with the goal. He speaks words worth treasuring, seasonable, reasonable, circumscribed, connected with the goal...' Likewise, there is another that sayeth: 'the wise in heart shall be called prudent and the sweetness of the lips increaseth learning. The heart of the wise teacheth his mouth, and addeth learning to his lips. Pleasant words are as a honeycomb, sweet to the soul, and health to the bones. An ungodly man diggeth up evil and in his lips there is a burning fire.'"

"And when I hath accused him of being prejudiced, I gave him reason for discord...I let fire escape from me..."

"Aye..." Avary said with a nod. "'And what a great manner of fire doth a little flame kindle.'"

Glenn thought of how this incident, which only concerned them, had spread to his parents which in turn spread to the city. He felt ashamed. "But, how shall I speak unto him again? Surely he is wroth..."

"That is a question that only thou mayest answer...however, I will give thee the advice that I hath received from thy mouth many times: pray and pray often. Leave now; the lesson for today is enough."

Glenn gave Avary a hug that he returned gently. He saw Glenn off, clasping his hands together and bowing his head.


	14. Words Unspoken

_**The Deformed Knight**_

_A small collection of stories containing the adventures of Glenn before his most epic journey._

_Chapter Twelve; Words Unspoken…_

Glenn had forgotten how much he had come to rely on the work the baker gave him. Even the paltry sum of coins he received from his recent excursions were more profitable than circling around Beggar's Lane and offering random services. It was better than it had been before he worked for the baker, seeing that his tenure there only bolstered his reputation as a hard worker who got things done. Working for the baker had also built a reliable customer base. Old familiar faces would stop and pay their respects and ask Glenn why he had stopped working for him.

Most of the time, Glenn could detect something in their voices that betrayed their unwillingness to admit that they knew more than they let on. Even then, it showed that people had begun to trust the rumors less and less whenever Glenn sent them on their way by saying it was only a mere difference of opinion and that he had no ill will toward the baker. Glenn held his newfound lesson close to heart and held his tongue whenever he would hear rumors about what the baker may have said of him. For every wicked word he heard, he would only offer a good word in return while begging his parents to do the same. Already, within the space of a month, the effects were easily seen. Those who had sided with the baker no longer looked to Glenn with annoyance, but regarded him as the kind soul they saw him to be before. The same went for the baker whose business grew more and more steady.

Many times Glenn thought about returning to the baker to pay a visit. Perhaps he could have his old job back which was very pleasing to think upon. However, something reigned in his desire to speak with the baker. Whether it was fear, the Holy Spirit, or some manner of premonition, Glenn did not know. The only thing Glenn knew at that point was that he had no desire to sort things out until he felt in his heart that he was ready. It was probably best that this was the course he undertook, for a great change befell him that very same day. It was a simple meeting that had set the wheels of fate into motion.

* * *

The Knight Captain had been fervently praying for guidance. It was strange to him that he was so moved to choose a candidate that was such an impossible choice. Everyday he would see Glenn working away in the street, attending to the people with such diligence that he could not help but imagine him serving thousands with the sword. Everyday Gavin would investigate into Glenn's situation and hear how people fawned over him. He would always think to himself, _"See now how thou doth stare amiably to a boy in rags? To what extent shall their hearts soar when they shall see that same boy donning the colors of our country, his face rigid with confidence and justice?" _

However, he could see the reaction of those who were not of Glenn's station. The Lords and Nobles would look to the Knight Captain with condemnation in their eyes. They would say among themselves _"This man who leads our sons into battle would choose a pauper before he would choose one of us? O' mighty king! Remove this fool from his station! He is no more fit to be a ruler than a Guardian! A traitor he is! A traitor!" _It was ridiculousness, thought the Knight Captain. How could the simple choice of an apprentice be such a powerful thing? Such were problems of politics. A pleasant voice called to him and forced his mind away from his troubles if only for a brief moment.

"My dear, wilt thou retire with me? 'Tis late and I doth miss thee...Please, come and lay with me."

The voice was as soft and soothing as a siren. Gavin turned to face his wife with a kind smile. She stood in the doorway of his private study, leaning against its frame seductively. He nodded his head and rose from his knees, his back smarting slightly from how long it had been bent. She looked at him with a smile tinged with sympathy and worry. "Thou'rt pondering on who shall be your ward, are you not? I see that even now the concern is still grave for thee."

"Aye." He said with a slight nod, "the king insists more and more each day that I choose anon. No matter what choice I have, I shall always be disappointed."

She stepped forward and leaned against his chest, her arms enfolding him. She could hear his calm heartbeat and she swooned. "They may not be as the baker's assistant, but they will do fine."

Gavin sighed, "Aye. It would be the safe thing, but safe choices rarely make changes, my dear."

His wife was silent for a moment and then giggled as if she found something funny. Gavin looked down at her, a mischievous smile on his face, "Why dost thou laugh?"

She laughed again, "'Tis nothing. 'Tis only a silly flight of fancy."

"I would hear it." Gavin insisted kindly, taking her head and kissing her scalp gently and allowing his kisses to travel down her face and to her neck.

She breathed heavily, the sensations causing a mixture of arousal and tickling. "'Twould be a funny sight to see the boy be an apprentice to an apprentice."

Gavin stopped and looked at his wife as if she were some great ray of light that shined upon him. She misinterpreted his joy and stumbled to reorganize and explain her thoughts, "What I mean, is that it I merely found it to be a funny thing to think that perhaps the boy can only be an apprentice in anything...even in being an apprentice..." She stopped and then began to say, "Forgive me my husband, I did not mean to-"

He silenced her with a finger to her lips, "You are an instrument of revelation. Thou hast given me the answer I hath prayed for. Thou failest me not, and thou liftest me up always."

"Truly?" She said, relieved that she caused no offense.

"Yes." He answered back softly. "Tomorrow, the problem that hath plagued me for so long shall be remedied. But for now, I must reward thee for thy brilliance." He kissed her gently even as she laughed at the phrasing of his proposal. He scooped her up into his arms and carried her off to the boudoir where they spent their time even long after the candle next to their bedside expired. That night he would show his gratitude in the manner in which she wanted it most at that moment; even to the best of his ability for that was what she deserved.

* * *

"Long night?" Avary asked with a knowing smile.

Gavin could not help but be startled, but smiled when he realized that certain things show in the manner of your walk even after a night's rest. Gavin nodded and said with a tone of mock begrudging, "Very much so. Nothing but work, work, work." They both laughed. He took his seat on the park bench while Avary allowed himself to work on that section of the garden during this visit. He knelt down before the Knight Captain, but only to trim the grass that began to grow over the brick walkway. Amid the steady snipping of grass shears, they spoke.

"I have come to a conclusion."

"Concerning..." Avary let his voice draw out, waiting for Gavin to fill in the gaps.

"Concerning Glenn and how he may occupy my seat within the apprenticeship."

Avary sighed. He had hoped this day would never come, but he had resolved to leave the decision up to Glenn once it was possible. "And how will you achieve such a task?"

"My wife, in pure accident, revealed an idea to me. Glenn shall not be my apprentice. Rather, he shall be an apprentice to my apprentice!" Gavin smiled at the clever idea of it all.

Avary looked thoughtful as he snipped away, "That is a very wise way to approach it. There are things you must be cautious of if that is the route you will take. The child will be indignant that he must share a master with an 'undeserving' pauper. There shall be cries of favoritism, no matter how oft you forsake the training of one for the other."

Gavin thought on it, "That is true. How would I go about doing such a thing?"

"Your approach in the matter should be deft. You must choose a father who would disagree with his son, who is stern with him, and who does not favor any sort of weakness."

"And how would that assuage any claims of favoritism?"

"'Tis simple. No man trusts the incessant whining of a child. Children who have trained under knights cry under the burden, but no one pays them mind. All children, until they know better, feel as if the entire world is against them. However if the parent of the child is in agreement, authority is there. There is no more doubt, seeing that even the parent spot any wrongs, be they true or false. That is why you must find a candidate who would be embarrassed by any weakness, who would take it as a disgrace if their son complained against their master."

"In other words...a military man." Gavin said with a growing smile.

"Thou hast cut to the quick." Avary said, symbolically taking another loud snip at the grass. "A military man believes that his children directly reflect him. After all, what matter of General can control an army and yet cannot control their own children? Hence, any dishonor garnished by his son would reflect poorly on him. He would struggle to keep his son's protests hidden and would only out thee in extreme situations which can be avoided by making an effort to teach them both."

"To teach them both would be an easy thing. I could teach many if only tradition has not forbade me to teach more than one."

"You are close to breaking tradition already," Avary laughed, "but still, 'tis a wise idea to teach them both under the pretense that one serves the other."

"There is more to this." Gavin, the Knight Captain, said with a great gleam in his eye. "Since he will be in service to a noble, he must be instructed in all things."

Avary stopped and for the first time felt some sense of approval toward this plan. "You would really teach him to read and write?"

"Scholars would be more fit to do such a thing. I will oversee their progress, but I shall leave it up to them."

Avary lost his smile as he stumbled upon a thought. "There will be much opposition. Scholars are already snooty when speaking with nobles. How will it fare when they teach a peasant? This is unprecedented. It may be too much for poor Glenn."

"He is made of a fine cloth. If anyone can endure any hardship, it is that boy."

"I am inclined to agree, but perhaps it is best if you find this out for thyself and ask of him."

"That is what I am off to do. I fare thee well, Avary." Gavin said as he rose with a groan, his body still slow to put weight on his legs.

"Give my regards to the lady of the manor." said Avary with a laugh. Gavin chuckled and walked off.

* * *

Gavin was not entirely truthful. It did not seem prudent to lift up the heart of Glenn just yet, if indeed this would be something he would rejoice in. Rather, he wanted to make certain that all would go according to plan and the most uncertain variable was the reaction of the nobles. Already he had a person in mind amongst the nobles. If things did not pan out the way he imagined Gavin would have rather had another plan to fall back on. He had already considered the best possible choices for a candidate besides Glenn. Fortunately, his plans were able to coincide because the person that Avary described happened to be the father of Gavin's next choice.

Gavin had chosen the very boy who would grow up to lead the Guardian armies against the sorcerer, Magus. It was Cyrus of Porre that was chosen and to whom he walked to at this moment.

The scenic towers and gardens of Mangaranon Lane surrounded him as he strolled toward the Neros Estate. He could see the whisperings of townspeople all around him and he could already make out their guesses as to his business and where he was going. Yes, this was very much like he imagined. The wealthy, in many terms, were not so different from the poor. There were hushed whisperings in Central Street all the way through Gemstone and Baker Street just as there were here. All people acted the same in the presence of a hero; with awe-inspired whispering and useless gossip.

Although he did not need permission from the guards to enter the paradisical habitat of the wealthy, he did take it upon himself to tell a crier at the gate that he was on his way to the Neros Estate. In the short term there was no immediate need for such an action. Some of these wealthy Lords, whose sole means of income were to give out and collect on loans to businesses and did nothing else, we quite speedy with their gossip. Even so, it would undoubtedly give Astor of Neros more time to prepare and it would let all those in Mangaranon Lane know that the Knight Captain was paying a visit. In the most devious part of his mind, Gavin knew that this was a tactical ploy. By making it public knowledge, Astor would have to agree to the conditions or lose face by refusing and thus being refused in return. After all, what noble Lord would want to be shamed by being refused?

The guards stood at attention, letting Gavin and his crew walk past the cast-iron gates. The attendant of the house stood out in front. It was that same man who accosted Glenn at the party. He was as fat as ever, yet held himself with a haughty and self-appointed type of dignity. It reminded Gavin of those cartoons he had seen paupers make out of charcoal. It caused a smile to rise on the corners of his lips as he imagined the profile of a portly pig dressed in fine clothing over that of the ruddy-faced servant. "I assume you are the attendant of the house? I have come to see Astor of Neros. Is he in?"

The man bowed as low as he could, which was far as he belly would allow, and said "He doth be in the study. I shall lead thee to him. You should be pleased. The crier hath done his work."

"Good." Gavin said with a nod. He waved a dismissive gesture to the guards that accompanied him and they stood at attention by the doorway.

The manservant was a talker. More than that, he was a suck-up. He continually sung praises about the Lord of the manor, about the king and how he could be of such wonderful service to him if he were called, yet asked Gavin to not divulge any thing they discussed in such an insincere manner that he could not be any more transparent. It pleased Gavin to no end when he 'assured' the servant with an oath to keep what they discussed between them. He pushed open the doors to the study and saw Astor sitting behind a large, dark cherry wood table. His desk was organized, his books stacked in columns, each column holding its own subject to be studied. There was a bit of a pleasant surprise when Gavin saw a book of art that lay open on the table and for some reason it slightly endeared him to Astor.

Astor took a puff from a pipe, an antique made of intricate workmanship, and rose from his chair. "Knight Captain. I hath been expecting thee."

"Please, be seated. There is no need to salute me within thine own home." Gavin said gently. "May I join thee?"

"Verily, please do. I was looking at the ledger for my estate."

They spent a few minutes in the usual trite and necessary opening conversations. The Knight Captain asked how business was and Sir Neros explained that it had been a good year, save for the many people leaving for Guardia. That led into a conversation about business plans and strategies, a discussion about the separation of classes (which actually saved Gavin from falling asleep in his chair) and finally about the Knight Captain's troubles in finding an apprentice. It was Astor who breeched the conversation which pleased Gavin. It showed that Astor had been chomping at the bit and that he was more anxious for the opportunity than he was letting on. "So, with so many fine young men to choose, I imagine it must be a great difficulty."

"Aye, and there is no pleasing everyone. There will always be dissention within my ranks no matter what the choice."

"'Tis true," Astor said as he emptied out his pipe onto a plate made specifically for that purpose. "I could regale thee with all the stories of men I had to choose when it came to rank. There was a time when I was forced to choose a new Lieutenant. It drove the men wild with rage. I had chosen the least popular but the hardest working man. They tortured the poor boy. I almost had to transfer him from my ranks."

Gavin felt that perhaps there was a hidden point in here and prodded the conversation cautiously. "And what became of him?"

"They made their ground in the El Nido islands and they were trodden down upon by a band of Mystics. He led them well and ensured that not a single man was lost. He had been respected ever since."

Gavin smiled, but for a completely reason that Astor had imagined. "It is true. There are people who cannot see the wisdom in a choice. They may only see it when time proves them."

"Aye," Astor said as he packed another roll of tobacco into his pipe. "However, for there to be any fruit from labors, the tree must be well chosen and cared for, yes?"

"I believe that is the reason why I am here today."

Astor sat forward in his chair and crossed his legs. There was an expectant look in his face, "Would this have anything to do with the apprenticeship?"

"Yes, it would." Gavin said, trying to choose his words and quickly and as wisely as he could. "Your son, for a long time, has struck me as a marvelous choice."

Astor was barely able to hide his pride as he took a puff from his pipe. It was not a swelling of humility for being chosen, but rather it was an indulgent pride that came from him. It was almost as if Astor had grown impatient in the time he had waited. After all, how much time did the Knight Captain have to take to make the most obvious choice? Even still, there was pride _and_ relief. Astor did not boast nor show bad manners. Rather, he inclined his head and said with as much sincerity he could muster, after blowing a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling, "It doth honor me that thou hast given my son such consideration. Hast thou any inquiry pertaining to my son?"

"Aye…what are his interests? How does he feel about serving the people of this kingdom?"

Now it was his turn for Astor to choose what to say carefully. Astor was a shrewd man. A man in his political station had to be. He was a man of action, true, but still a man of words and manipulation if need be. He had studied his former interactions with the Knight Captain. He knew the following about him: he was devoutly loyal to king and country, he had a soft spot for those who were industrious, he did not tolerate indifference to the king and how it was ruled, and he had a strange love and devotion to the poor it seemed. He began with: "My son, if thou did not notice, follows after me. I have taught him from a young age to care for his king and country. What manner of man cares only of himself and not for his country and country men?"

Gavin nodded, watching Astor's face carefully. What he had said so far rang true…

Astor touched his fingers to his lips for a brief moment before saying, "Also, I have taught my son that although we are of higher class, we must care for those in the lower class. Although we support them, they support us also. I have endeavored to teach my son that even the lowliest peasant can save the life of a noble." Gavin saw the slight change in expression; the slight aversion of the eyes as they rolled to access a part of the mind that triggered rehearsed and created memories, the twitching in the corners of the mouth, the tightening of the jaw, even the change of the cadence of his speech. Was it _all_ a lie? No man can know for certain. However, Gavin could at least say that from what he had seen at the party and what he had seen now, there was inconsistency. He already highly suspected that the importance of the lower class was never discussed between Astor and Glenn. Perhaps the doubt was all in Gavin's mind, but he could not doubt what he had seen.

He recalled the party. He recalled the glaring of Cyrus toward Glenn, the way he fretted as the people at the table inquired of Glenn and praised his input. He also recalled Cyrus' taunt, which even the Knight Captain could not help but smirk as he heard it: _"I supposed that even our little friend here would be too much of a match against their troops."_ Only now did Gavin reflect more fully upon the meaning. Even so, Gavin knowing the true nature of Cyrus toward the lower class, he had seen his opening. He began excitedly, putting on a show of agreeability.

"What you say is the utter truth, Sir Neros…we are but flesh and bone, and all flesh and bone bleed like the rest."

"Aye," said Astor, blowing another cloud of smoke toward the ceiling.

"It is a shame that those blessed to live in comfort, by the Most High God, are hated for their good fortune. The lower-class despise us only for this reason."

"Verily, that is the truth of the matter. If only there were a way to remedy the situation." Astor stated with a nod, his words very well hiding the lack of sincerity in his voice.

"I believe there might be a solution…" Gavin said, stroking his moustache.

Astor had begun to show his first signs of anxiety, but hid it underneath curiosity. "How, good Sir Knight?"

"Suppose that I asked thy son to join my apprenticeship? Suppose thou would accept only on the condition that he may have a squire at his side. A lower class squire, kept in thy house and under thy roof? Imagine the morale and the restoration of the faith of the people? They would rally under our king, our houses, because of thy single kindness!"

Astor's jaw had tightened. That was when Gavin noticed that perhaps that Astor was quicker and cleverer than he imagined. Astor leaned forward on clenched hands and said, "A certain someone, like that apprentice?"

"Apprentice?" Gavin asked, feigning confusion.

"The baker's apprentice…the one from the celebration. I believe his name was Glenn."

"Thy memory astounds me." Gavin said, aiming for flattery.

It was not enough. Astor had begun to see his true motives. "It would be hard to remember had you not represented him so vigorously. Also, word has come from around Mangaranon Lane that thou hast approached him at several times…he is a bit of a wonder, it seems."

"Yes." Gavin said, now finding himself on the defense. "He had seemed a good choice to me as any. He is loved by his people, he is industrious, and he is quick to obey."

"Love is something that can earned, industry may be taught, and obedience comes with training. Size and strength does not. He is far too small."

Gavin thought quickly, knowing that waiting too long to answer would damage any credibility he had. "Ah, but size is the matter of the thing! The most humble and smallest of servants becomes a venerated leader among the poor, yet remains a servant to a larger and healthier noble! The distinction shall be there! There will be no doubt who the better is, yet who can deny that the boy did not have the opportunity?"

"Thou'rt training my son for war, not for politics, Knight Captain." Astor said, dumping out his pipe.

"Politics _is_ war, Sir Neros. I know this is something that we are all familiar with."

"Quite." Astor said, his face showing the slight hints of a frown.

Such was the nature of politics: both parties staring at each other, knowing that things spoken plainly would solve a problem faster than anything. However, certain things cannot be said, subjects cannot be broached, and things unspoken can never lead to blame. Gavin and Astor, both masters of their craft, analyzed each other over the large desk that separated them. There was a feeling of mutual resentment. It angered Astor that his son was not enough, and it angered Gavin that he was not free to make his own choice. Both knew without saying another word between what the deal would be. Astor craved credibility, Gavin craved his ideal knight. One could not happen without the other. Both stared hard at each other for some time until Astor sighed.

"I will not go easy on the squire…" Astor said, his fingers flexing against each other, "If we are all but flesh and bone, pain affects us the same."

"I would not expect it any other way." Gavin said with a nod. "However, it is requisite that he be taught and sheltered. And a squire must always accompany his ward." Gavin answered.

"Yes…of course…He shall be cared for as much as needed. Cyrus shall be his ward. And a squire is always a squire…never anything more."

"Yes." Gavin said with a nod and an extended hand.

Astor took the hand. He quickly dismissed the Knight Captain by saying that he needed to finish his assessments. As Gavin left he recalled those final words, the words that were the truest expression of desire told in that meeting: _"A squire is always a squire…never anything more."_ Although the rules of conduct did not allow him to speak freely, Astor's message and statement of the deal was loud and clear:

"He may be your choice, but you need my son and never shall Glenn of Porre be above my son."

_Author's Note; I was kind of digging the story toward the end. I wanted to go a little further and cover Glenn's reaction to all of this, but this seemed an appropriate place to stop the chapter. I especially like the chapter of the title. It seems to be a theme that carries throughout the entirety. Anyway, it has been so long. Once again, sorry for the lack of updates. I love this story. I'll keep writing. Pinky-promise. :P_


End file.
